Derelict: A Stargate nBSG crossover
by Crazy-88
Summary: Waiting for eons in an unclaimed Star System of the Milky Way Galaxy, one of the last great inventions of the Ancients will show the way home for one people and bring two Galaxies into an all out war…
1. Chapter 1

The ultimate truth of the universe is that it's infinite.

Infinity is a word that has comparable translations in the languages of advanced societies, but relatively few truly understood, being themselves of finite construction.

This in turn led to most races to simply shut off their awareness of the awesome and overwhelming nature of the void that existed around them, confining their awareness to the country or planet where they were they born. Or perhaps the solar system they lived in. Some more advanced races stretched out their hands to try and control the infinite in their foolish but finite way, building empires and monuments to their supposed divinity across star clusters and Galactic arms, which slowly crumbled away under the steady passage of time.

But millions of years ago, one race attempted to reach beyond their own universe to others that existed somewhere in space time. Their attempts were subtle enough, artificial gateways of a modest size. Experiments were only partially successful as it was found a door was needed on both sides to make any gateway possible without needing fantastic amounts of energy. Strangely, many of these "alternate realities" were found to be so similar to their own, that their counterparts there had in fact made their own gateways which then linked together. Contacting "themselves" was amusing enough, but not exactly useful and fraught with danger to the point that the practice was discontinued and the research forgotten.

For millions of years their civilization grew, touching other Galaxies as they expanded. But even as they gradually evolved towards undreamed of power, heated debate simmered over what to do with it. Eventually a civil war broke out that would render a terrible price on both sides of the debate, wiping an entire Galaxy clean of life. The survivors who remained true to their races original goals fled to a distant Galaxy to start over, after seeding the building blocks of life once more in the Galaxy that had been their home.

There they found a measure of peace for uncounted millennia. But a terrible price would be paid as once again the Universe they sought mastery over frowned upon them. Again their numbers were decimated, their civilization collapsed and those who remained fled back to their old Galaxy to live out the rest of their days, before they died and rose almost as Gods to a higher plain, finally having the control over the very fabric of the universe they had sought for so long, even as finally they understood they could never use it.

However some of their race refused to simply fade into the background, recalling the millions of years when their Empire spanned countless systems in breathtaking splendor. Digging into arcane research, they stumble upon the technology to rip the fabric of the universe and jump to another one separate from their own, answerable to no-one. And there, they founded a new Empire which thrived…for a time.

Chapter One. "Down the Rabbet Hole".

**Battle Cruiser _Daedalus_.**

**Docked. Area-51.**

**Nevada, United States, Earth.**

**January 10, 2005.**

"Daedalus this is Vandenberg, your corridor is clear of all traffic. SatComm is a go. You are cleared for launch."

"Vandenberg this is Daedalus actual" Colonel Stephen Caldwell replied as he reached the bridge, touching the compact headset/microphone that linked him into his ships communications system. "Do we have an update on the status of Doctor Jackson?"

"Colonel I'm afraid out last update from the SGC still has him indisposed, no indications he is going to be fit to travel anytime soon."

"Roger Vandenberg, _Daedalus_ out". Touching the earpiece again to close the channel, Caldwell glanced around the command centre and seeing preparations for launch were well under way, turned to the very non military figure leaning against a bulkhead. Ordinarily he would never tolerate a civilian 'lounging' about the command centre but in the case of Doctor Elizabeth Weir he really didn't have that much of a choice.

Even so, she was a diplomat and a good one. She kept out of the way and didn't call attention to herself, simply watching as Earths newest Battle cruiser underwent preflight procedures. As she now had discretionary power to use the Daedalus as she saw fit while it was in Pegasus, she had reasonably pointed out that it would be advantageous to establish a friendly relationship between herself and the Colonel in front of the crew. Caldwell was inclined to agree. 'Dual' command could rapidly snowball into 'Duel' command in a frenzied situation and he knew she was smart enough to not interfere with the running of the ship…but it didn't mean he had to _like_ the situation. Still he trusted her to respect that this was his ship there could only ever be one Captain.

The newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard on the other hand…he may prove to be problematic. On one hand, he was now officially the ground forces commander for Atlantis Base and his chain of command ended with Dr Weir. Despite that, Caldwell distinctly outranked Sheppard, making for a wonderfully muddy picture in the chain of command. Caldwell couldn't help but snort at the situation. He didn't really blame Weir for her loyalty to Sheppard but he hoped that at least she would keep a clear head.

"Well it looks like Doctor Jackson won't be joining us…again" the Caldwell commented as he stepped around the weapons console and made a beeline for the Captains chair.

"That's disappointing" Weir noted with a sigh as she levered herself up from her improvised seat. "This is what, the third time he's missed out getting to Atlantis?"

"Forth actually" Caldwell corrected as he sat down. "He tried to get General O'Neill to let him go when we were sent to defend the city from the Wraith a month back; he didn't have a hope of course with the ship going into a combat situation. Add to that the initial expedition and _Prometheus's_ failed attempt…well that's four in a row".

"You think the he'll ever reach Atlantis?" Weir asked with a wry smile. Despite all that her people had learned about Atlantis and the Ancients, Jackson was still by far the foremost expert on them that Earth had. His written and spoken Ancient was superior to anyone else on her team, having been working on the language for close to five years. He had even met more then a few of them over the years before _and_ after he had ascended to the plain of existence that the last of their race now occupied.

Elizabeth had only worked with him for a short time when she had taken command of the SGC and later the Antarctic research program, but in that short space of time she had started to see just how critical he had been to Stargate Command and SG1. He worked effectively in a predominantly military establishment, tempering the often rather direct instincts of Jack O'Neill, complementing the intellectual gifts of Samantha Carter and bridging the gaps earlier on between Teal'c and the SGC as well as many other alien cultures encountered over SG1's eight near legendary years of operation.

Jack O'Neill of course would have absolutely none of Daniel heading off to the Pegasus Galaxy and had vetoed every attempt but the failed attempt by _Prometheus_.

There was an amusing irony she thought, that the same women who had derailed the attempt by _Prometheus_ to reach Atlantis last year had also just derailed Daniels most recent attempt …though apparently not _completely _deliberately this time.

"Alright we're all on board, lets get the party started" Caldwell said as he eased himself into his command chair. "By the numbers people, let's make it just like the last time". There was a shift in the sound the ships power plant was putting out as the antigravity wave generators came online, a deep humming more felt then heard started to permeate the air. The concrete/steal mesh roof above the starship jolted, then steadily retracted to show the twilight of the Nevada sky as the dry-dock illumination wound down. The docking bay emergency personnel scurried into thickly shielded emergency bunkers, ready to respond if something catastrophic happened and the ship came crashing down before clearing the hanger bay.

Idly, Caldwell wondered who they had annoyed to get assigned to _that _posting on the base.

"All flight systems nominal go for Launch"

"Pilot, up and out" Caldwell ordered, trying not to wince at the thought of over ten billion dollars worth of taxpayers property the size of a skyscraper being suspended by physics he only understood in the most abstract sense.

His fears proved foundless as the ships pilot carefully raised the _Daedalus_ out of her hanger (or more actually the ships sophisticated autopilot raised it under guidance from the pilot) and with a steady grip on her yoke, she throttled up and climbed, accelerating rapidly into the orange/pink dusk which steadily faded to the black of space.

As Daedalus broke orbit, Weir took a final look at her home, thinking of the man who had missed the trip, yet again and wondering if he would EVER get to Atlantis.

She also thought of the poor Vala Maldoran, thinking of what Daniel would do to her when he woke up.

"Colonel, sensors are recording an energy surge along our path, approximately sixty light years distant, ten degrees off our current course" Lt Dave Kleinman spoke up from the ships weapons station, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard over the low level chatter of the dozen or so personnel on the ships bridge.

Daedalus's mission clock read just over four hours now, with over seventeen days left before the navigational software estimated they would reach Atlantis. The Pegasus Galaxy was unfortunately situated on the far side of the Milky Way, meaning that Daedalus had to cut across a good chunk of the Galaxy to get clear for her run to Atlantis. Theoretically it would be easier to simply head straight 'up' from Earth into inter-galactic space, then speed along the top of the Milky Way until they had a clear shot. But it was considered safer to stay inside the Galaxy along a path that took the Daedalus through charted space…just in case early on 'something important happens to blow up' as General O'Neill had put it.

Turning away from the simulation being run at one of the secondary consoles, Caldwell strode around the command center to the console ahead and right of his own station, running an eye over the sensor readouts.

"Can you identify the contact?" Kleinman poked at his console, then shook his head.

"Negative. It's not even showing up on the primary sensor array, just the passive Asgard systems as some kind of energy surge right here" the Lieutenant said, tapping the touch screen upon the blinking yellow icon that had just appeared. The screen expanded into a system view, showing a half dozen planets circling a G2 type star along with the sensor contact, which was clearly nowhere near any of the systems planets. "Sensors indicate its approximately twenty light minutes away from P4X-221."

Caldwell frowned as he studied the icons. A tingle of curiosity ran through his head as he noted the icon was in fact directly opposite the star from P4X-221 on the same orbital inclination...meaning if this sensor contact was being generated by an installation or ship, it was taking great pains to keep the systems primary between the only planet with a Stargate and itself. And the fact that the Goa'uld inspired sensor systems built into _Daedalus_ couldn't see a thing there…

"Who owns that system?" Caldwell asked, his curiosity now officially piqued.

Kleinman touched a hyperlink and brought up the planetary listing page. "It was an outpost of the Ancients, but it's been abandoned for eons. Several SG teams and some of Anubis's Jaffa had a scuffle there a few years back, back. But no-one actually owns the planet or claims it according to the current SGC records".

"So what was so important about that particular planet?" Caldwell asked, an uncomfortable feeling starting to work at his mind as Kleinman worked the console. "According to the logs, the clash was in the middle of that period when Stargate Command and Anubis were turning the Galaxy upside down to try and find the Lost City of the Ancients. The place _was_ an Ancient Outpost. But ultimately it turned out to be relatively low tech; its construction was more in line with the Stone Age rather then Atlantis".

_Unless of course the technology the planet was there to support was elsewhere in the system _the Colonel thought to himself. Ordinarily he would simply log the sensor contact and when they dropped out of Hyperspace at Atlantis, pass the information back to Earth for Prometheus to go take a look.

But on the other hand…

"…now less then ten light years away" Caldwell finished up his summery of current events to the trio of figures who had arrived on the bridge. Dr Rodney McKay was barely listening, standing next to the status display window on the port side of the ships bridge and studying at the sensor readouts duplicated on the large screen. John Sheppard was sitting next to Dr Weir, adjusting his flight suit in a vain attempt to straighten up the loose material into something approaching neatness. He had in fact been in the middle of his qualification tests for the F-302 interceptor when the call had come, but had lacked the time to get changed back into his normal duty uniform before reporting to the bridge.

Elizabeth Weir was in fact grateful for the summons; she had been board out of her mind for the last four hours. Although she had two weeks of somewhat important staff meetings scheduled with the new personnel the Daedalus was shipping to Atlantis, they weren't due to start until they cleared the Milky Way. Meaning she was nothing but a glorified passenger…and was going stir crazy with cabin fever.

"The question is" Caldwell continued as he stepped away from the main sensor display, "Do we stop and take a look or do we just pass the information back to Earth?"

"I say stop and take a look" Sheppard spoke up, glancing towards the Canadian scientist who was still intent on the sensor readouts and tapping furiously away at a modified graphics tablet linked into the ships computer networks. "Prometheus won't be able to get here for a few hours at best and it's hardly much of a delay to at least take a look".

Weir spoke up next, her opinion echoing Sheppard's.

"Well if it is some kind of fancy technology and Samantha Carter is busy at area 51, Rodney is by far-" "

"We really need to take a look at this" McKay broke in suddenly, then looked around. "Sorry, did I interrupt there?"

Weir resisted the impulse to roll her eyes and end her statement with _the most irritating person to hold a conversation with_. Instead she simply raised an eyebrow. "Not really, what have you got?"

Touching his pen to the tablet he switched the main screen from a long range sensor readout to a pair of sensor waveforms. "This thing" he started, "is Ancient".

"And you know this how?" Sheppard asked, wondering if he was going to understand the explanation.

"This energy signature that Daedalus is tracking" Rodney said highlighting the top one, "is a Zed-PM".

_THAT_ got the undivided attention of the three people listening to him.

"Are you sure about that Doctor?" Caldwell asked his tone not quite on the verge of glee at the thought of being able to get to Atlantis in two days rather then two weeks. "We already ran the sensor data through the ships database and it didn't match anything, including"-

"-a Zed-PM yes yes" McKay jumped over the Caldwell, either not noticing or ignoring the Colonels irritation at being anticipated and interrupted. "That's because your sensor profile for a Zed-PM's energy signature is based on one in real space". Taking a second to gather his thoughts, McKay then plunged ahead trying to simplify theoretical astrophysics no-one on the ship (excepting Hermiod), would probably understand. "A Zed-PM isn't a simple energy storage medium, like say an Earth battery. It's well…a doorway if you will, to an artificial region of subspace and THAT'S where they store the energy. It's how the Ancients can store huge amounts of energy in such a compact form…because the energy doesn't actually exist inside the Zed-PM, that's just the access point for it.

"So are you saying that as we're in subspace now, we're about to collide with the stored energy of a ZPM dead ahead?"

McKay simply rolled his eyes.

"It would be kind of stupid for the Ancients to store the energy in hyperspace when they used to fly around it all the time, don't you think? No it's simply a lensing effect on the Asgard sensors through the subspace domain the ship exists in. Sort of like a sensor shadow I guess you can call it".

Sheppard took a few seconds to digest the information, then turned to Caldwell.

"Well it can't hurt to take a quick look Sir" he shrugged. Weir digested the data for a few seconds.

"Anything else you want to tell us about the readings?"

"Just one thing" McKay said, tapping his portable computer again, bringing up a bar graph. "This is the kind of signature I would expect your typical Zed PM to generate in this kind of situation. And this" he tapped and a second series of bars appeared, matching the previous graph but with much higher peaks "is what we're detecting".

"And this means…" Weir asked, waiting for the explanation. McKay frowned.

"I don't have the first clue. It's just…weird"

"Ah" she responded, not quite sure _what_ to make of this statement, then turned to Caldwell. "Colonel, take us in please".

A hole was wrenched open in the fabric of space, blossoming into a swirl of blue light and a spike of EM radiation. Through this rift, Earths newest Battle Cruiser jumped back into the starlit darkness of realspace, closing the gateway behind it as the ships Hyperdrive powered down to standby mode. Her grey hull was lit by the nearby star, but her running lights defined her shape. Bulkier then her sister ship _Prometheus_, _Daedalus_ was the next generation of USAF Battle Cruiser and carried more firepower then had ever been dreamed of during the 58 years of the US Air Force. Much smaller then most Starships used by the major powers in either the Milky Way or Pegasus Galaxy, only the foolish or stupidly overconfident would dismiss her based on her size. The US (and Earth for that matter) might be relatively new on the interstellar stage compared to some of the races around, but what the humans from the backwater planet lacked in maturity, they made up for in shear ability to cause destruction and chaos. In the eight years of the Stargate program, Earth had smashed empires and destroyed a half dozen alien races that had been founded when Earths population had thought hitting each other with sticks was an awfully good idea.

_Victory is a weakness in itself _Caldwell thought to himself as the ships primary sensors came back online. _We've known nothing but victory for the last the last eight years out here, punching way above our weight. It would be all too easy to become as overconfident as the Goa'uld if we loose our perspective. _Taking a glance at Colonel Sheppard, now dressed in full field kit, he felt his gut tighten slightly at the opportunity for chaos he saw in the man. _Overconfidence in our abilities and skill led to the Wraith being awoken and the forfeiting of millions of lives across the Pegasus Galaxy. _He didn't really blame the Colonel for his attempt to rescue Colonel Summoner and the men taken with him. But the sloppy execution of the raid had lead inexorably down a chain of events to the situation the Atlantis expedition now found itself in. His 'damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead' attitude had gotten Daedalus beaten up at the hands of a Wraith fleet. His antagonizing of races like the Geni had simply lead to further conflicts down the line.

Sighing inaudibly and turning back to the forward window, he tried to push all thoughts of Colonel Sheppard from his mind. He didn't doubt for a second the mans courage or honor. He just needed to find a way to curb his somewhat…enthusiastic…approach to situations before he ended up insulting a high ranking Jaffa's mother.

"Radar contact, bow, ten degrees port" Lt Dave Kleinman spoke up as the ships forward phased array radar started to sweep space in front of the ship. It only took a few seconds for the computer to isolate the contact dead ahead, steering the beams electronically back and forth several times a second as they mapped out its shape. The algorithms called up by the sensor process decided the location of the passive Asgard contact matched the hard radar target to within six significant figures, which was good enough to change the icon from a yellow question mark to a yellow diamond, signifying a hard unknown contact.

"Pilot, bring us in at an oblique angle, ahead standard. Guns, pipe the sensor readouts to the main display."

"Roger that" Kleinman said, and worked his console. A few seconds later, the display next to McKay shifted to a wireframe view of the sensor contact as the sublight engines rumbled slightly through the deck plates. Caldwell looked at the first synthetic pictures coming up on the screen…and frowned. Something about the design clicked in his head, but Sheppard got it first.

"It looks just like that Ancient defense satellite that the Wraith destroyed a few weeks ago" the Colonel said as the image slowly rotated in front of everyone.

The station looked almost like a huge asterisks in space. Towers that would have blended in well with Atlantis's cityscape poked out almost randomly in all directions. Unlike the model seen in Atlantis, a central 'core' cylinder ran through the stations centre, defining a 'North' and 'South' pole that rose perpendicular to systems plane.

"Is there any indication its weapon is armed?" Weir asked, her voice somewhat subdued in volume, almost as if she was afraid of waking the sleeping giant. Or regretting her decision to stop and 'take a look'.

McKay walked across the bridge to a row of LCD displays mounted down from the ceiling and ran his eyes over them.

"No…no….and no. It looks completely powered down, assuming it is a weapons satellite".

"Well what else could it be?" Sheppard asked, not taking his eyes off the image as Daedalus slowly drew closer and the wireframe was joined by magnified visual images.

"Maybe it's a Zed-PM powered coffee peculator, how should _I_ know?" McKay sighed as he turned back to the senior staff. "The point it's not _necessarily_ a weapons platform. Why would you place a defensive weapons platform with a limited range on the _other_ side of the star your planet orbits?"

Silence greeted McKay's question as the senior officers mulled over the rather clear problem with its orbital placement.

"Because it is not actually a weapons platform" a new voice joined the conversation from the side of the bridge. Everyone turned and saw the ships resident Asgard stroll onto the bridge. Caldwell acknowledged the aliens presence with a nod. Weir smiled in greeting. McKay raised an eyebrow at his intellectual nemesis and Sheppard simply stared.

"Ok then, what is it?" Weir asked.

The Asgard didn't answer at first, instead simply narrowing his eyes and returning Sheppard's gaze until McKay poked the Colonel in the ribs and he got the point. Caldwell worked to keep the grin from his face. He had met over a dozen Asgard during the construction phase of his command and almost all of them had been softly spoken, enlightened beings who tried their best to fit in with the humans at Area-51, while taking in stride the fact that it took a while for humans to get used to their presence. Some were a little excitable in their own way, but still overwhelmingly curious and enthusiastic about their collaboration with Earth.

Hermiod on the other hand…well it wasn't fair to say he was the opposite of the 'typical' Asgard. But he wasn't shy about letting everyone know what he felt about…well…anything.

Including humanities relative intelligence and maturity for that matter.

"There is an interior area which my scans can not penetrate that appears shielded, but there are no external weapons of any kind, or the large directed energy weapon the Atlantis platform was equipped with. As to what its function is, I could only speculate as to its purpose. Suffice to say, much of the extra technology installed while it _is_ Ancient, is not standard to a station of this design".

The Asgard turned slightly and glanced out the window at the station, now within easy visual range. A pair of bow mounted fifty million candlepower spotlights were playing over the station, illuminating the strangely chaotic design as they moved to within two hundred meters. The close range was actually quite deliberate, the idea being that if the Platform was a weapons station, Daedalus could better evade a single main weapon at close range rather then at long.

"Well we're not going to figure anything out standing around" Sheppard spoke up, still unable to stop staring at the Asgard out of the corner of his eye. Hermiod glared at him for a few seconds, then turned and walked off the bridge, muttering in Asgard as he went, probably making uncomplimentary comments which were almost certainly directed at the Lt Colonel. Caldwell's stoic demeanor cracked and he joined Dr Weir in smirking at Sheppard, who simply looked confused.

"What?"

Four shafts of brilliant white light illuminated the pitch black interior of the stations airlock accompanied (if anyone had been around to hear it), by the almost musical chime of an Asgard transporter beam. The light faded leaving four figures encased in the blocky, armored white space suits of Stargate Command teams, back to back with their weapons at the ready. Helmet lights popped on, partially illuminating the darkness as the four men slowly looked around.

"Well I didn't think I'd ever be back here" McKay muttered, just loud enough to be heard over the open comm frequency".

"Cheer up Rodney" the Sheppard's voice crackled back over the helmet speakers. "There aren't any Wraith inbound this time".

"There isn't any Peter Godden either" he replied, an unhappy tone in his voice causing the two Atlantis veterans to pause for a second in sober memory of the British scientist who had given his life to slow down the Wraith heading for Atlantis, buying enough time for reinforcements to arrive from Earth.

Predictably, it was Weir who gently broke the moment.

"So what does it look like?" she asked, carefully steering their thoughts away from the past to the present.

"Dark. Its completely powered down in here. I'm going to try to…oh hell"

"What?" Sheppard demanded.

"Uhh for the record, we're floating in microgravity here. Artificial gravity is offline…and I don't have anything I can grab onto. Remind me to thank Novak for beaming us into midair."

"Hang on Doctor" a new voice interjected into the conversation, Weir recognized him as Sergeant Fontaine, one of the marines who had beamed over with McKay and Sheppard to round out their party. "I'm close enough….ok I'm on something like a ladder on the side wall here".

"Oh, good, can you anchor yourself to it?"

"Sure, just give me a second…"

Each team member was carrying a length of tensile cable mounted on their suit with a multi-clip to tether the user. The Sergeant anchored himself to the wall then pushed back off and helped McKay, Sheppard and their last team member, a Marine named Eustace secure themselves. The two marines secured their lines to the airlock interior then McKay and Sheppard linked themselves to the two men directly. Carefully, the four men manually cracked open the inner airlock hatch and floated down the long drop to the floor, spooling cable as they went. The two marines secured their lines to allow easy access back to the roof (and provide something to grab onto if anyone floated away), then everyone floated off to investigate the structure.

Looking around, McKay instantly saw the stations configuration was somewhat different from the weapons satellite back at Atlantis. Instead of a bare floor with a couple of panels built into the walls, the central area was dominated by three full sized consoles similar to those in the Atlantis control room. Each formed one side of an equilateral triangle; each faced its own holographic view screen apparently floating in midair. There was also a pair of doors the defense satellite had lacked which clearly led to other sections of the station.

"Ok, so now what?" the Colonel asked as he floated up to the nearest console.

"Don't touch anything" McKay warned as he looked around the walls trying to place which side of station he was on. "The last time I was here Groden decided to start pressing buttons at random and he activated the artificial gravity when I was in midair."

"Ouch" Sheppard responded as he gripped the edge of the console and maneuvered around the side towards the Marines who were studying a control panel on the wall.

"You REALLY don't want to know" the Canadian responded. _Yes, here it was_ he thought as he finally found the control he was looking for. "Ok everyone stays on the ground" he said, then tapped the small screen built into the wall.

Air hissed into the tall room with enough momentum to actually push the four man team around slightly. They tightened their grips on their chosen handhelds and a few seconds later their wrist mounted atmospheric analyzers blinked green, followed by the stations internal lights activating and illuminating the huge room quite adequately.

"Nitrogen oxygen mix, it's safe". With relief, McKay broke the seal on his helmet and took a deep breath of the air, glad to be out of the claustrophobic helmet. "Activating artificial gravity" he added, and tapped a second icon.

Sheppard felt his lunch slam into the bottom of his stomach and focused on trying not to throw up all over the interior of his helmet. He succeeded, then relaxed his grip and straightened back up, unbuckling his helmet and starting to strip his EVA suit.

"Sheppard, Daedalus. We show the stations systems are coming back online. SITREP?"

"Daedalus this is Sheppard. McKay has life support and gravity restored, situation is clear so far".

"Configuration is somewhat different from the station back in Pegasus Colonel" McKay jumped in as he struggled out of his space suit which back in real gravity suddenly felt bulky and clumsy. "I'll need some time to bring the stations mainframe online".

"Roger that" Caldwell responded. "Be advised we've signaled Stargate Command, _Prometheus_ will be here as soon as they finish their current activities at Earth in a few hours, then they'll take over".

"Oh? What's happening at Earth anyway?" McKay asked. They had only left a few hours ago after all and everything appeared normal…as much as normal could be attributed to Stargate Command anyway.

"You're not going to believe this" Weir started…

**Battle Cruiser _Prometheus_.**

**Geosynchronous orbit. **

**United Kingdom, Earth.**

**January 10, 2005.**

"Please"

"No"

"Its just ONE little thing!"

"No."

"Oh come on WHO is going to miss it?"

"No!

"Well you have to agree it looks good on me"

"….well there is that. But NO!"

Vala Maldoran sighed theatrically as she followed Daniel away from the Transport Ring room on the ship orbiting high above the English countryside. Toying with the delicate tiara she had 'liberated' from the underground treasure trove, she wondered if he knew that the diamonds supported in the lattice of crystal were in fact highly prized and absurdly rare Goa'uld stones each worth as much as a fully outfitted Al'Kesh.

She doubted it. But she doubted he would let her keep it. Pity.

Behind her, the rings activated once more bringing Colonel Carmon Mitchell up from the underground vault along with Teal'c, the famous (or infamous depending on who you talked to) Jaffa warrior and now a leader of the Free Jaffa nation.

"Hey Doc, you want to put the encyclopedia Alterian down for a minute?" Mitchell called as he stepped off the ring platform.

"Are you kidding?" Jackson answered, without even looking up. "Do you have any idea what kind of a find this is? I mean it's a chronicle of the history of the Ancients FROM an Ancient! I mean, it's priceless!"

"When you say priceless…" Vala started with sudden interest, but was cut off by the ships intercom echoing through the metal passageway.

"Colonel Mitchell, this is Prendergast, please report immediately with your team to the bridge".

Mitchell who had served on the Prometheus for many months before jumping to Stargate Command knew his way around the large ship and even with Daniel still completely engrossed in the old leather bound book and Vala trying to read over his shoulder every step of the way, managed to get the quartet to the ships command centre without running into _too_ many people.

"Hey Shaft, welcome back!" Colonel Lionel Pendergast smiled as Mitchell led Jackson almost like a blind man onto the bridge…then carefully placed him in a corner where he would be out of the way. THEN he was able to turn around and exchange salutes with the superior officer who in the rush to get into the underground vault, he hadn't actually seen when he came on board.

"Colonel, always a pleasure" Carmon smiled as he looked out the windows at the softly lit planet sedately rotating under them. It was still one HELL of a view out of the bridge view port, with Earth hanging suspended sedately under the Battle Cruiser and it still gave a secret thrill to him knowing he was really out in space…and it was about now that he noticed Earth was falling away as the ships bow came out and up to point away from the planet. "Uhh…Sir?"

"Afraid we have new orders Colonel. A cargo ship is on its way to take over ring access to the underground vault and the turnover to the UK Ministry of Defense. Teal'c, you of course are more then welcome to beam back down to the SGC before we leave orbit…"

Teal'c inclined his head in a slight bow out of respect for the Colonel. "I would remain on board Colonel Pendergast, I am not due back on Dakara for several days yet".

"Always good to have you aboard. Dr Jackson?"

"Humph?" Daniel said, finally tearing his attention away from the book in his arms.

"I have some good news for you. _Daedalus_ was outbound to Atlantis but they appear to have stumbled onto some kind of Ancient Space station. Since they have specialists in Ancient technology on board, they're staying to look the place over until we arrive".

"They're staying!" Daniel asked his eyes going wide. "Then-"

"Your bags were already packed, we beamed them up a few minutes ago" Pendergast anticipated the next question, then looked at Vala. "Assuming your Girlfriend here is willing to let you go of course".

Daniel slowly turned to face the women next to him, who was now grinning cheerfully.

"Well. I would say negotiations have been re-opened", Vala said, fingering the pearl colored tiara once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two. "Home".

**Tomb of Athena, Kobol.**

**Koobal System.**

**600 Light years from Caprica. **

**Cylon Genocide + 100 days.**

Commander William Adama's weapon snapped up on pure instinct as the solid rock door to the tomb of Athena slammed shut behind him, plunging the cave into darkness. He could hear the startled gasp of Laura Roslin to his rear over the thunder echoing through the cave and the startled curse of his son as he yanked his sidearm from its holster, but he couldn't see a damn thing.

Then the room was lit with a bright light.

Even as squinted his eyes shut against it, he realized it wasn't necessary as the flash like lightning from a thunderstorm vanished as fast as it had appeared. He opened his eyes again as another pair of flashes occurred, a loud click almost like a light switch being flicked echoed…

And he was no longer in the tomb of Athena.

Training drilled into him decades ago came leapt to the forefront as his weapon tracked across a grassy plain that couldn't possibly exist inside the cave they had been standing in. Insects chirped softly around them and a rumble of thunder from a dozen kilometers away rolled over them before fading into the night.

_Night?_

His eyes flicked up and indeed the stalactites and rock ceiling that had been suspended above them had been replaced by a night sky full of stars that twinkled serenely. It was all completely impossible, but none the less it was all true.

He felt rather then saw Starbuck and Helo sweeping their rifles as their heads darted left and right in alarm at their change in location, before they both forced themselves to relax and slightly lowered their aim points so they didn't shoot any of their companions by accident. Turning around, Adama stopped short at what had to be the feature exhibit of wherever they were, six stone monoliths brooding over the small party, each with a string of lights glowing at the base and another sequence at their tips. Sufficient to cast a soft glow over the group, but not enough to ruin their night vision.

"Uh…where the hell are we?" Billy Keikeya asked in a low voice, that sounded both awed and half scared to death.

"I don't know" Roslin replied slowly as she looked around, trying to take everything in. "Tomb of Athena, I _think_" she added, saying the only thing that made any sense to her.

"I thought we were already _in_ the tomb" Adama muttered as also turned full circle to see if he missed anything. Strange, the ground under his boot didn't feel like the soft grass and dirt he expected to feel, instead much harder…almost like rock.

"I think that was just the lobby" Kara whispered, not disguising the awe in her voice as she slowly looked over the monoliths and their alien but familiar patterns.

Laura ignored the chatter as she slowly walked closer to the great slabs of stone, her steps slow and cautious as if she was walking inside a minefield. Adama watched her with interest. Despite his skepticism towards the Presidents claims, he had walked the path to this place with her. Not because _he _believed…but because _she_ did.

He hadn't known what he would find at the end and he had truly felt bitter disappointment that all they had appeared to find at the end of their search was the broken remains of a stone tomb.

Then they were here…

"Again the ancient symbols" Laura said. She studied the closest stone, speaking in the slow measured cadence of a teacher. "These patterns...were o­n the original flags of the twelve colonies. Back in the days when the colonies were called by their ancient names".

Slowly looking back and forth, she pointed along those along the top row of lights that glowed with a faint blue sheen and named each as she came to it. "Aries... Taurus... Gemini... Cancer... Leo... Libra…"

"Virgo…Scorpio…Sagittarius…Capricorn…Aquarius…Pisces" Billy finished, pointing at each of the lower constellations which glowed with a golden light.

"But what does it all mean?" Apollo asked rolling his head back and massaging his neck in frustration…then stopped, letting his jaw drop. "That's it!"

Everyone craned their necks to the sky. The three other military officers, spacers all, quickly saw what he was looking at but neither the President nor Billy had any clue what had gained their undivided attention.

"It's Kobals sky" Apollo said softly. "I recognize it from the nights we've spent down here. And that" he said pointing towards the North slightly for the benefit of the two civilians "is Aries". Roslin followed his hand then involuntarily took a deep breath as she saw he was right. Star constellations of course changed configuration depending on which angle you viewed them from. But from the surface of Kobal…there was a perfect match sitting majestically over their heads.

"But what does it mean" Laura asked, not understanding the significance.

"This is the map" Apollo said, almost in disbelief. "This is the map to Earth".

"Maybe" Adama said, not agreeing or disagreeing. So is Earth in o­ne of these constellations"? Adama pointed to monoliths. Why are there two rows? Why are they divided?"

"The constellations we can see from here…it's from the upper row" Apollo pointed out, once again staring into the millions of stars that covered the night sky. "If it can be seen from Kobal…"

"It could mean that all of the star patterns seen on the lower rank can be seen from Earth" Roslin speculated.

"I don't know what good it's going to do us though" Kara said in a voice thick with disappointment. "I mean, what are we supposed to do? Search the entire _Galaxy_ for one particular star pattern?"

Adamas gut tightened. It was a start, that much was true. But trying to find a planet bassed on nothing more then the fact that it had these constellations _somewhere_ in the sky…

"I think…we've seen all we're going to see" Adama said with a final look at the night sky, the kind one only saw from the highest mountains on worlds without any pollution in the atmosphere, literally covered in millions of points of light. "Helo, did you get a record of this?"

"Yes Sir" he nodded, holding up a small portable camera. Adama nodded.

"Ok. So how do we get out of-"

A light flashed like a burst of lightning once more and then the vista faded to complete darkness.

"-here" finished the Commander in surprise. _You just have to ask apparently_ he thought.

A sound like a metal bar being dropped onto the ground echoed through the cave, then with a grinding sound of rock against rock, the door leading into the tomb slowly pushed open and a rather worried looking Chief Tyrol peaked in.

"Hello? Everyone ok?"

"We're fine Chief" Adama said back as the group slowly started to walk towards the door, Starbuck stopping to scoop up the Arrow of Apollo which had fallen out of its place. A sense of awe permeated the group. Earth was _real_.

Despite the enormity of the task facing them, to figure out where it was with this one clue…it was real.

And it was out there, waiting for them.

"Call in the raptors Chief…lets go home".

**Battlestar _Galactica_**

**Deep Space.**

**615 Light years from Caprica. **

**Cylon Genocide + 101 days.**

"We have struggled since the attacks... trying to rely o­n o­ne another. Our strength and our o­nly hope as a people, is to remain undivided".

Adama paused as he looked around the hanger bay. It was filled back a good forty meters. In the front, President Roslin and Vice President Gaius Baltar stood with Colonel Saul Tigh, his second in command. Behind them stood the Quorum of twelve who constituted the elected Government of the remnants of the human race and the senior officers from his crew as well as the hanger crew squeezed in behind them.

It wasn't easy to contain his pride in his crew, his family. They had been through hell over the last few weeks as everything had fallen apart. President Roslin breaking her word to him, then openly defying him. Himself being shot by a trusted officer…who turned out to be a Cylon. His best friend doing his best to drink himself to death. His Son betraying him, his best pilot betraying him…everyone around him abandoning him.

He had let them down.

It hadn't been an easy realization to come to. Betrayal blotted out all thoughts, all emotions.

All but rage.

It had taken a junior officer brave enough to say it to his face to wake him up to the truth.

He had let them all down.

Over three months ago, President Roslin had come into his office for the first time and started giving him orders to lead the fleet out of the Colonies. It had taken him all the self restraint he possessed not to simply have the Marines through this low level bureaucrat off his ship so he could get back to the business of wining the war. He was going out to start blowing up Cylons. It was his duty afterall. Then she had hit him over the head with a cold dose of reality. He smiled slightly as his thoughts drifted back to that day.

"You don't get it, do you" the firary woman in front of him finally snapped. "The human race is about to be wiped out! We have fifty thousand people left and **that's it**. If we want to even survive as a species, then we need to get the hell out of here and start having babies!"

He had simply walked out on her…but the sentence continued to nag at him for hours, until he finally admitted it was time to stop fighting…and start running.

But he knew survival was more then simply getting the hell out of Ragnar station. There were fifty thousand civilians with the fleet. They sure as hell were not military. They simply wouldn't follow orders without question or accept that they had to run, perhaps even for years without any direction, to find a place to try and rebuild civilization again.

No, they needed hope, something that everyone in the fleet lost with the destruction of their civilization.

So he pulled Earth out of his hat. The legendary 13th tribe of Kobal. It was a complete lie, but it was also said to the surviviors that there WAS hope. That there WAS a plan. That they had a chance to live on. Hope gave people something to fight for, something to die for. But critically it gave them something to _live_ for.

When Starbuck found out he had been lying to her all this time, could he really blame her for then trying to find _real_ evidence of Earths existence?

Who was he to blame a third of the fleet for following the President to Kobal to find Earth, when HE was the one who started it all?

Could he truly hate his Son for standing against him, to protect the democracy that he had sworn to protect, regardless of if the President had broken her promise and her word to William Adama?

Without a doubt he KNEW his deception about Earth had been a necessary one, otherwise the fleet long ago would have self destructed. He wouldn't hesitated to do it again knowing what had come of it.

Without a doubt he KNEW he had been in the right to arrest the President after she went around him, subverted his officers and put the entire fleet in Danger based on visions that may be from divine intervention or overdoses on drugs.

But…what did it matter if he knew he was right? Oh he had his pride of course, but what would it mean when it destroyed the last remnants of a race he had sworn to protect? Would his pride comfort the families who had been wrenched apart by Roslin subverting half the fleet? Would it get back his best two pilots, without whom the fleet was just that much more vulnerable?

Could it possibly be worth it?

No. he had swallowed his pride and returned to Kobal to reunite the fleet. Regardless if they came up in body bags, he and Roslin were coming back from Kobal. Together.

"We haven't always done all we could to insure that" Adama continued the speech, mere seconds having passed while he reflected on the past. "Many people believe that the scriptures, the letters from the gods, will lead us to salvation". He glanced at President Roslin and held her steady gaze. "Maybe they will. But 'the gods shall lift those who lift each other'" he quoted, breaking and sweeping his gave over the rest of his friends. His family.

"And so, to lift all of us, let me present o­nce again the President of the colonies, Laura Roslin"

Applause broke out through the cavernous fighter bay. Polite and proper as benefited a respected public figure walking to the podium as he stood aside, before rapidly falling off.

Like hell.

Stepping forward, he slapped his hands together. And again. And again. He drew curious looks from the mass of people and the President, but he didn't stop. Then it started.

First one person in the crowd started clapping his hands in time with Adama.

Then a half dozen.

Then a dozen.

Then twenty.

Then fifty.

Slowly even the most shy of the crowd started to join in and soon everyone but the President was slapping their hands together in perfect time. The President herself started at Adama with a completely baffled look on her face, not having a clue why Adama had started the thunderous clapping. Then slowly they sped up. Faster and faster and just as steadily, a smile slowly dawned on her face. Not a politicians smile or one she might show to the media…but _her _smile. Fighting back tears as the crowd broke into a thunderous applause and cheering. She looked to Adama, now standing precisely in the centre of the front row who completely unabashed continued to clap without pause. And in that glance between the two of them he knew.

His family, divided beyond any possibility he thought of repair, was healing.

**Battlestar _Galactica_**

**Deep Space.**

**615 Light years from Caprica. **

**Cylon Genocide + 102 days.**

Vice President Gaius Baltar pulled his glasses from his face in annoyance and tossed them onto his desk as he leaned back in his chair rubbing his face. He had spent the last seven hours racking his brains for meaning, direction, anything from the twelve symbols. But he still wasn't any closer and he doubted he would be until the _Galactica_'s navigational computer finished crunching the star patterns.

_Technically,_ he thought_ this wasn't exactly a job for a Vice President._ But he also knew he was the smartest person in the whole fleet which made him the default choice for trying to solve the enigma.

Which looked to be damn near impossible.

"Oh come on, you can't be giving up already Gaius" a voice broke into his thoughts from behind him. Sounding both stern and amused at the same time, slender fingers lightly touched his shoulders, gently but expertly working the aching muscles in his neck.

"I never said I was giving up" the Vice President said to thin air as he enjoyed the wonderful sensation of his muscles loosening under the steady pressure. "For that matter I never _said_ anything".

"But you _were_ thinking it Gaius" the female voice came back softly in his ear, sounding a little sterner. "You know can't hide your thoughts from me". A slender finger pressed on the side of the chair, sending it turning to bring the stunning woman into view who had been his constant…companion in one form…or another, for over a year. "You _will_ find the way to Earth because you are _destined _to lead the way".

"Oh. Well that's nice to know, because I have made absolutely zero progress", he complained. "You're supposed to be an angle sent here to guide me right? Well" he said, pointing towards the desk covered with pictures of the monoliths, star charts and books galore, "you can start here"

Six laughed, her pale blond hair dancing on her bear shoulders as she shook her head.

"You still don't understand do you" she smiled; stepping forward and without warning she stepped raised her leg over him and sat, straddling him as she adjusted her scarlet dress slightly. "All this technology, all these resources are useless…the answer has always been in front of you".

"Really" he said with a thin veneer of sarcasm lacing his words.

"Of course" she said. "We are all instruments of God Gaius" she said solemnly. "Even those of us who are impossibly stubborn and unwilling to admit it". Her piercing gaze held his, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Remember Gaius, All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again. We follow the path of God. The players change, but the story remains the same".

"Was that actually _supposed_ to help me?" Baltar asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just being cryptic for the sake of being cryptic. Again".

"Your stubbornness is not one of your more endearing qualities" Six sighed, carefully levering herself back up to her feet. "You have eyes to see and ears to hear but you fail to notice anything around you". The computer terminal pinged. Excited, Baltar turned to it. The results came up onto the computer screens in front of him.

"Well?" Six asked, leaning over till her head was next to his own and her body gently pressed against his…bringing memories to the surface that he brutally forced down before he got distracted.

Of course he was sure was why she had done it anyway.

"The computer has found every one of the star patterns in the first sequence of patterns, the ones that can be seen in the Kobal sky" he said, pointing to the star map. With Kobal in the middle, four red circles surrounded it, one capped it, the sixth was not visible in the top down map but it _was_ there. "Unfortunately it has only found two of the others…and it tried mapping the entire sky from our current location. In fact-"

"Gaius. The key is right in front of you" she said in a slightly exasperated voice, reaching out her arm and lightly moving it along the leather bound copy of the Pythian prophecy that he had sitting on the desk. "As I have told you, we are returning to the beginning of the circle. Seek the answer here".

"Oh so God left a note for me here did he?"

The Cylon (or her memory) was silent for a few seconds. "Don't mock God Gaius" she said. Her voice was still friendly enough, but there was a clear undercurrent of warning in it. "His hand might be hard to see at times, but it _does_ touch and guide all of us". She tapped the book. "Open it to page fifty."

Deciding not to push the strange relationship with his phantom too far, Baltar opened it and found the page. A quick glance showed a few paragraphs of text, but the page was mostly empty, coming at the end of a chapter.

"Read it" she said, her voice brooking no dissent. Sighing, he sat up straighter and pulled the book closer, then started reading.

"And while the few searched for the path, the six brothers stood in order, forever lighting the path to Kobal, while the six remaining brothers stood in identical order over the gateway to heaven". He turned an irritated expression upon the haunting, but beautiful woman. "Wonderfully cryptic, but-"

Baltar stopped in mid sentence as the phrase hit him. The import stunned him like a proclamation from on high as the meaning permeated through him. Six's expression was one of smug satisfaction, like a teacher whose student had finally grasped a concept that had eluded him time and time again.

"Trust in God Gaius, He will guide your hand" she said, and then simply vanished into nothing. Baltar barely noticed, his mind kept furiously circling.

_Six brothers…and six more brothers…standing in order_.

Putting the book to the side, he brought up the star chart again. Tapping on his keyboard, he set it for a 3D representation and rotated back, holding his distance constant from Kobal. From this angle, he could see clearly the six star constellations. Six points in space. Each more or less the exact same distance from Kobal on all sides. Using the navigational software that was running his program, he measured the distance between each of the constellations 'midpoints'…each was identical.

His head starting to feel light, he generated a wireframe cube, and then expanded its size until the length of each of its sides was exactly twice the length of each of the constellations to Kobal.

It was a _perfect_ fit. At the exact centre of the cube, the yellow star that represented the Kobal system flashed red. His hands trembling slightly, he selected the two other constellations that the computer had managed to identify and moved the wireframe across and rotated it until two of the faces of the cubes were perfectly aligned with the two midpoints.

And again, a star at the exact centre of the map flashed red. He stared in wonder for a second.

And then bolted for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Stargate Command Operations Centre.**

**Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado**

**Earth, Milky Way.**

**January 11, 2005.**

"Chevron five, encoded"

Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman glanced over his control boards as power surged through high voltage cables overhead towards the Stargate. The great ring in front of him slowed with a sound of stone grinding against stone, then stopped. On his screen, a star constellation expanded, then shrunk down to the side as the chevron locked in place.

"Chevron six, encoded"

At this point, Walter carefully looked over the Chevron listing down the right hand side of his screen, mentally ticking off each one. Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces…

"Chevron seven, locked"

There was silence for a second, then with a whirring sound followed by a great whoosh, the unstable vortex short forth, then snapped back into the Naquadah ring as if it was attached by an elastic band.

"Wormhole established. Subspace transmitter is powered and ready" Walter announced.

"Thank you Chief" General Landry nodded, then leaned down to the microphone and slapped the talk button. While there was now a very powerful subspace transmitter hidden among the several dozen aerials that NORAD had placed on top of Cheyenne mountain for more mundane communications, sending a signal halfway across the Galaxy would take ten or twenty times as much raw power as just opening a wormhole and using the much smaller subspace transmitter built into the gateroom computer.

Not that Colorado had a power shortage of course. But people at the power company might get a little suspicious if NORAD kept surging huge amounts of power far beyond its history for official purposes on a regular basis. Even nine years after the program started, every effort was taken to limit the knowledge of its existence to the United States population.

"Prometheus this is Stargate Command, respond".

There was static for several seconds, then a squealing, then-

"Stargate Command this is Daedalus. Authenticate Charlie Echo One".

Landry glanced down at Walters computer screen. Authentication codes were assigned by the time of day according to Zulu time and assigned to all SG teams and starships leaving Earth. It was a quick and theoretically unbreakable challenge common to all allied because the combinations were completely random. The code for between 12:00 and 14:00 hours would be…

"Prometheus this is Stargate Actual. I authenticate November Hotel Niner".

"Stand by one Sir" the distant technician said, then Walters screen dissolved into static which quickly resolved to display Colonel Caldwell sitting in his command chair.

"Stephen, mind telling me where Prometheus is?" Landry asked without preamble.

"Their on their way General" the distant commander replied, glancing at the ships tactical displays. "We have them on long range sensors, they should be here in about five minutes".

"Fair enough. When they arrive, tell Teal'c that he has received a message from Dakara and he needs to contact Raknor ASAP".

"Will do Sir".

"What's the situation?"

"We have boarding party aboard the station led by Colonel Sheppard. They're not making much progress apparently, the Ancient language is very archaic compared to more mainstream Ancient".

"Well I'm sure Doctor Jackson will be happy to lend a hand. Just remember to take him with you when you leave or I'll never hear the end of it".

Caldwell grinned. "I'll try not to forget him".

"Damn straight" Landry smiled. "SGC out".

The Stargate hissed then the wormhole vanished.

"Well Chief" Landry said to Walter, looking out at the deactivated ring in front of them, "It looks like Colonel Mitchell's out of a Geek".

**Ancient Space Station.**

**Orbit, P4X-221 Star System.**

**Unclaimed Space, Milky Way.**

**January 11, 2005.**

Colonel John Sheppard turned as the chime of an Asgard transporter rang through the control room. Three columns of light appeared to phase through the roof and crash onto the floor, shimmering for a second before fading to reveal two figures in the military khaki of Stargate Command and one…not. John knew Doctor Jackson and Colonel Mitchell. The final person however…

"Colonel" John greeted the defacto leader of the new arrivals, throwing off a salute to the officer, who waved away such formality and extended his hand which John took. "Good to see you again. I didn't think it would be so soon though".

"What can I say; I love a good Space Station". Sheppard gestured to the man next to him who was looking with great interest towards the computer consoles. "You know Doctor Jackson I presume?"

"Oh. Damn"

Daniel turned back and frowned at that.. "Umm excuse me?"

Sighing, Sheppard reached into one of his utility vest pockets and emerged with a crisp twenty dollar bill, which he handed over to Mitchell, who carefully folded it and placed it back into his own pocket. Daniel stared in confusion for a few seconds.

Then it clicked.

"Wait…you were _betting_ on me actually making it to Atlantis?" Daniel asked with a somewhat amused expression. Sheppard shrugged with a wan smile.

"Well given your history with Atlantis I thought it was a pretty safe bet".

"I'd have been happy to loose it to be frank" Mitchell added with a smile that looked a little forced. And it wasn't hard to guess why, given the current situation.

Daniel wasn't happy with the situation either, despite the fact that he had been trying to get to Atlantis for over a year now. Mitchell had worked his way through a years worth of physical therapy with only one goal in his mind, to join SG1. Then when he finally got released back to active duty status…it made Daniel feel more then a little guilty.

Not enough to _stay_ of course. He turned backed towards Sheppard.

"So Colonel…what can we do for you?"

"Well the _good_ news is that McKay here thinks there is a Zero point module powering the station, which we all want to get our greedy hands on. The _bad_ news is that we can't find it. The _irritating_ news is that the computer files are written in some kind of formal Ancient script he doesn't have a clue about".

"I have _a_ clue just not _much _of one" the Canadian protested from a few meters away without bothering to look up.

"Whatever!" Sheppard said back with an expression that said he didn't really care. "So Doctor if you would please…"

Daniels expression brightened as he stepped around the group and up to the console McKay had plugged into. Sheppard turned back and directed his attention to the rather non military women standing next to Mitchell. "And you would be?"

"Vala" the women answered, looking over Sheppard with a practiced eye that missed little. "Vala Maldoran. And _you_ would be?"

"Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air force".  
Vala sighed.

"I'm beginning to see why so many Goa'uld wanted to destroy Earth. It has to be the most incredibly _boring_ planet in the Galaxy! Nothing but 'Yes Sir!' 'No Sir!' military types who wouldn't know the meaning of fun if it bit them in the-"

Vala may have continued on her tirade if not for Mitchell hooking a finger through a convenient leather strap on her back and pulling her back towards him.

"Leave the man alone, dear" he said with a slightly amused expression. "Because I'd rather you not annoy the men with the guns to the point where they just decide it's much easier to shoot you rather then listen to you".

"Except for the slight fact that Daniel would die as well" she pointed out.

Mitchell raised an eyebrow.

"I said _shoot_ you, not _kill_ you"

"Why is it that all of you want to shoot me?" Vala demanded with an exasperated sigh. "I brought you a map to enough treasure to make us all rich-"

"And forced Daniel into helping you find it"

"But we did find it!"

"And there is still the whole stealing the Prometheus thing"

"…well there is that. But it was all in good fun! Ask Daniel, we had a ball!"

A few meters away, Daniel muttered something under his breath.

"Just stay inside the room". Mitchell pleaded. "And try not to annoy too many people".

Scowling, Vala turned with a flick of her ponytail and started to walk around the control room, taking in the gleaming technology and reams of data streaming over the laptops and plasma displays the tech team from the _Daedalus_ had plugged in. A few seconds later, an Asgard transporter beam flashed and Teal'c arrived, holding the large book Daniel had recovered from the vault under Glastonbury tore, which he handed over to the archeologist.

Mitchell turned back to Sheppard who was looking at him like he was deranged.

"She _stole_ the _Prometheus_?"

Mitchell simply grinned.

"Teal'c, how's the high council"

"They are well Colonel Mitchell. The debate over the future government of the Free Jaffa has been suspended for a week as several other members of the high council are not on Dakara today".

"Well that's good news isn't it?"

Teal'c considered. "Yes" he agreed after some thought. "The situation is…fluid".

"Sounds serious" Mitchell said with a frown. Teal'c nodded slowly.

"There has been much dispute over the formation of our new Government". Teal'c said in a lower tone. "The Jaffa struggled for so long to free ourselves that we gave little thought to how we would govern ourselves _after_ the victory".

"That doesn't sound good…on Earth we've seen any number of situations like this turn very nasty very fast".

"Which is why Bre'tac and I campaigned for a truly representative Government that embraced all Jaffa and would let our race find its own destiny". Teal'c's expression did not change, but Mitchell sensed the displeasure that rang through his voice. "A Jaffa named Gerak emerged as spokesman for the more traditional ways of the Jaffa. They backed a more restrained change in Jaffa society, talking years or decades to reshape, if they wanted to do so at all".

"That doesn't make any sense" Sheppard protested, drawing the Jaffa's attention. When he had left for Atlantis, John had only a sketchy understanding of the politics in the Milky Way. One of the joys of his new rank however had been spending the last few days taking intelligence briefings on the situation in his home Galaxy. And this didn't add up.

"Those 'traditions' were nothing but an elaborate smokescreen to bind the Jaffa more tightly to the Goa'uld. Often by encouraging fighting among each other and blind obedience…they should be _rejecting_ that past, not embracing it!".

"Indeed" Teal'c agreed. "But Gerak represents a very significant powerbase of Jaffa in both the size of their armies and worlds they seized from the Goa'uld. A large majority of these Jaffa switched their allegiance after our Victory at Dakara. Most occupied relatively high ranking positions in the service of the Goa'uld and with the deaths of their False Gods, they simply took their place on those worlds".

Carmon's felt sour. "And as the votes in the high council are assigned based on military assets…"

"Gerak's coalition has the numbers to vote him leader of the Jaffa nation" Teal'c finished. His expression broke slightly into a small smile. "However. Bre'tac has suspected that the true size of Gerak's coalition has been deliberately overstated. The break in these debates will give the council time to investigate their holdings. As well as gain time for negotiations with several of those Gerak represents".

"So…being off world with your Tau'ri buddies actually saved the day, no?"  
Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow.

"Ohhhkay. Baby steps, baby steps" Mitchell muttered to himself. "Come on, Teal'c, Let's go have a look around the place".

"Ah! No, go back one. One more. No the other way…yes that's it!" Daniels enthusiasm had a half dozen technicians looking up curiously as he tapped at a data entry on McKay's laptop.

"Ok. Activate that and we should get…" Daniel looked up as the holographic monitor activated and lines of Ancient characters started to poor onto the screen. "That".

"So what have we got?"

"Ok. These" Daniel said, waving his hand over a directory listing "are the stations computer generated logs. These" he added, tapping another set of icons "are links to the stations primary systems"

"Oh goody" McKay said and brought up the logs, flashing down a page of entries. McKay accessed the most recent and redirected the stream to the primary window, expecting the translations of the logs to start rolling down the screen.

Instead, ASCII characters started to randomly scroll onto the screen including a few characters McKay had never seen before, until he killed the stream process.

"What does that mean?"

"The translation matrix doesn't have a clue. It was programmed based on the work you did on that time loop machine and has no basis here".

"Those were the days" Daniel muttered.

"Yeah, anyway, we're going to have to completely reprogram the translation matrix to handle this new variation of Ancient if we're going to convert the logs to English. But the underlying OS is more or less identical to the mainframe on Atlantis as well as the outpost on Earth, so the application level interface is still functioning".

Daniel held the Canadian in a level gaze, calmly waiting for him to translate _that_.

McKay sighed.

"You have to translate the logs yourself. Ok?"

"No problems" Daniel nodded confidently. "Let's take a look here" he said, tapping the systems link. McKay pulled out one of the control crystals, flipped it over and returned it back to another port on the dusty orange console. Here the Ancient script was much more conventional and Rodney was able to move around the system with only minimal guidance from Daniel. A few false starts later they found what they were looking for and the display shifted to a wire frame view of the station, text highlighting various areas.

"Ok I've got the primary power grid system…can you read this?"

Daniel adjusted his glasses and stared hard at the screen. The schematics for the stations power plant were once again labeled in the obscure dialect.

"Sort of…but it's going to take some time to get a real translation of it. That", Daniel pointed to one label, "is a transport station". According to this, the only other way into this room is climbing down a single access shaft through the core of the station. It's uh…very heavy protected by what looks like solid trinium".

"Hang on" McKay said, then opened up a new window and logged back into the _Daedalus's_ external network through the communications gear they had brought on board. The relatively unsecured connection was read only, but a quick login got him the logs of the sensor scans they had been conducting of the station when they arrived. "Take a look at this" he said, lifting the computer for Daniel to get a look. "The one area the Asgard sensors couldn't scan through was this area in the central core around the engine room. Either they're hiding something, or they have so much shielding around something down there that its blocking sensor probes"

"Well someone's going to have to take a look" Daniel commented. Then he got an idea.

"Ten meters on your left guys" Daniels voice crackled over Sheppard's earpiece. The lights in the outer corridor of the control level only operated on very limited power, just enough to highlight the passageway but not enough to rid the area of the dark shadows that cloaked it. Sheppard and Mitchell swept their P-90's steadily as they moved forward, the tactical lights slung under the barrels illuminating their path somewhat, Teal'c brought up the rear, keeping an eye on their back trail. The twin doors from the control room lead into the passage that ringed the command centre, providing access to a transport room, lounges, storage rooms, conference rooms and access points to the internal conduits under the command centre. None of the rooms had been of any real note, except for the fact that they had clearly been put in order very carefully as if the Ancients who had crewed this station knew they would never come back.

It was just like they had found Atlantis.

Slumbering.

Waiting.

Derelict

He had walked Atlantis in the middle of the night more then once. The city was so large and the human population so small that one could walk for tens of kilometers and not encounter another human being in a city the size of Manhattan. All that could be heard was the hum of the cities few active systems, the crash of the waves against the 'shoreline'…and the ghosts of the Ancients who had once inhabited the city.

Moving around the constantly curving passage which looked so much like those back on Atlantis, Sheppard's thoughts once again returned to the expedition in the Pegasus Galaxy. Intellectually he knew that this station could represent a short cut back to Atlantis, but having the _Daedalus_ just sit still here irritated him. Atlantis had called in for weekly status reports to Earth since obtaining the ZPM and he knew the city was more or less safe, the Wraith convinced it had vaporized in a multi megaton hellfire.

But the situation in Pegasus was deteriorating. The Wraiths activity across the rest of the Galaxy was still increasing far beyond any previous cull, the Geni were unlikely to have found new hobbies and he had just made a promise that effectively meant he would track down Ford, drag his ass back for Becket and get him off the Wraith juice.

The sooner Stargate Command took over this whole space station issue, the better.

"I don't see it yet Daniel" Colonel Mitchell sent back, bringing Sheppard's thoughts back to the present. Focusing his own tactical light, Sheppard frowned as he also failed to see the doors of a transport room where Daniel said it should be.

"Well it says it should be there on the map".

"You want to come out here and have a look? It isn't here" Mitchell responded, walking a few meters to the outer wall and looking as far down the corridor as he could.

"Ok wait a minute….opps"

"Opps? _What_ opps?"

"Uhh sorry guys, we were reading it upside down. We just overlaid the life signs detector. The room is on the opposite side of the corridor from where you area."

A quick nod from Mitchell sent Teal'c off with the two officers following him.

"So Daniel, what's your Girlfriend doing?"

"She is _not_ my Girlfriend the indignant reply came back quickly. "And she is just sitting in the corner pouting because everyone is busy and no-one is paying attention to her…well except Rodney"

"Oh I _so_ am not!"

"You're drooling all over the console!"

McKay continued to half protest his interest as Teal'c edged his way around the station. His excellent sense of direction let him judge when they were nearing the opposite side of the corridor ringing the control room and this time a brown door was embedded into the inner wall. Gesturing to the two Colonels behind him, Teal' approached the door, which opened with a slight hiss revealing an empty room and a small control screen embedded in the wall.

"Just make sure she keeps sitting in the corner. I'd rather not have her steel the station out from under us" Mitchell said as he angled his weapon around, shining his light into the room, then gestured everyone to get in.

"I'll keep an eye on her.

"Use both" Mitchell muttered without activating his radio.

"Ok we're here" Sheppard said as the three stepped inside. "Now what?"

"Ok there should be two other locations you can transport to on the display. One of them is the stations power room; the other is a hanger bay".

"Wait this thing has a hanger? Sweet! We should look at that first" Mitchell protested enthusiastically, Sheppard rapidly nodding his agreement.

McKay broke into the conversation with a sigh.

"Yes I'm sure you pilots would dearly love to look at 'Yet Another Ancient Spaceship', but can we try to stay on topic for at least five minutes?"

"Spoilsport" Mitchell scoffed, and then frowned. "Hey what do these two red dots on the transport room display mean?" Sheppard looked closer at the display and saw what Mitchell was talking about, two dots that were outside the space stations wireframe, but instead of flashing white, they burned a bright red.

"Those are just the ring rooms on the _Daedalus_ and _Prometheus_ which are not active, feel free not to press them unless you want to have your pattern lost to deep space, otherwise be my guest".

Mitchell looked at Sheppard.

"You made him a member of your team, why?"

The white flash of the transporter room faded from Camrons eyes as he the sequence completed, the door in front of him opening to reveal a large but only partially lit room.

"We're in" he radioed, wondering if they could hear him through all the shielding around the room…though the lack of a response suggested they couldn't.

Teal'c stepped out first, holding his P-90 like an oversized pistol as he swung it around to take in the entire room. Sheppard followed him trying to look everywhere at the same time, then Mitchell brought up the rear. An even dozen holographic monitors circled the room's walls, all deactivated. A railing matched the circular outer wall, defining a two meter wide walkway around the perimeter that separated the monitors from an inner raised area with a quartet of the now ubiquitous Ancient computer consoles placed equally around the perimeter of the platform.

"Ok, let's take a look" Mitchell said, then followed the railing to the left with Teal'c in tow while Sheppard broke to the right. A quarter of the way around the room he found a short staircase that provided access to the central core. He jumped up with Teal'c on his six…then felt his jaw drop. Sitting in the middle of the gap between the two consoles were a trio zero point modules. They sat, extended from a triangular power console, lit softly by a spotlight twenty meters above in the dark ceiling.

"John?"

"Yeah?" the Colonels voice echoed from somewhere on the other side of the room.

"We hit the jackpot"

"Hang on, there's a staircase over here - whoa!" Sheppard breathed as he caught sight of the three power cores.

"Indeed" Teal'c agreed as he joined them, reaching for his radio. "Daniel Jackson, Doctor McKay, can you hear me?"

Static crackled back over the radio.

"There must be too much shielding around the room to get a signal out" Sheppard muttered, looking around the room, then stopping and walking over to one of the consoles. "But if this thing works like the one on Atlantis..." he speculated, then tapped one of the crystals covered in an Ancient symbol he recognized. "McKay, can you hear me?"

There was nothing for a second, then a soft chime sounded through the room.

"Yes, we were wondering what was going on down there".

"Well it looks like the room is shielded against our radio signals". Sheppard shrugged. "Or something. But I _can_ confirm that the power core is made up of…THREE Zero Point Modules".

"_THREE"_ Daniel and McKay simultaneously gasped in astonishment.

"Three" Mitchell confirmed moving closer to Sheppard.

"Well that would explain why the sensor shadow was far more powerful then it should be" McKay commented in a more thoughtful voice. "Can you read how much power they have?"

"All the screens down here are deactivated and most of the lights are off".

"That would be a no?"

"That would be a no".

"Well the station is running off secondary power. There is a Naquadah sheathing over most of the central core that is absorbing solar energy and powering the systems we have operational" McKay commented, and then paused. "Wait, are the ZedPM's sitting inside the console or are they sort of sticking out of it"

"They're sticking out"

"Ahh see that would explain it, they're not active in. You're going to have to push them slightly on the top, they'll retract into the console and become active, and then we can check their status".

Sheppard looked at Mitchell. Who looked at Teal'c. Who looked back at them both…all with the same expression on their faces.

"Umm are you sure about that McKay?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure. Look we're just connecting the ZedPM's to the power grid so we can have a look. Nothing more, Nothing less".

The two officers glanced at each other, shrugged and walked out to the central console along with Teal'c.

"On three?" Sheppard said with a raised eyebrow.

"On three" Mitchell confirmed. "One".

The three stepped up to a ZPM each.

"Two" the three put their hands on top of their chosen power core.

"Three!" and each of them pressed carefully on the top. The three cores started to lower with a whir of motors and they snatched their hands away.

"Ok they're going in" Sheppard called back…watching as they came flush with the console, then they brightened and a red dot glowed on each of them.

"Excell-"

The station jolted and a roar of a very big machine powering up ripped through the room.

"MCKAY!" Sheppard and Mitchell demanded in unison as the power centre around them shuddered its way to life.

"It's not me!" the Canadian protested as he hammered the console in a near panic. Seeing no response, he ran around to the next console, scooting the technician sitting there out of the way. The second the Zero point Modules had been inserted, the stations primary systems listing had lit up like a Christmas tree. Technicians were franticly working their own consoles trying to disengage the power systems, but no-one had a clue what was going on.

"McKay, NOW would be a good time to press the stop button" Sheppard's voice came over the intercom again, understandably concerned as the station rocked again sending a couple of technicians flying into walls.

"Sheppard, Mitchell this is Caldwell, what the hell is going on over there?"

McKay listened as the various officers talked to each other, trying to tune it out. Many of the other civilian technicians who were on their first ever mission with the Stargate program were also near panic, starting to demand that they get the hell out of there, turning into a roaring cacophony that made it impossible to concentrate. Daniel was trying to reassure everyone while he tried to get them back to their stations, listen in on the three way debate between Colonel Mitchell's team, Colonel Pendergast and Colonel Caldwell AND try to help McKay translate.

It was also clear he was failing at all of those tasks.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"

The powerful voice ripped through the noise in an instant, causing everyone to turn and show a rather irritated Vala Maldoran glaring into the group of civilians.

"How in the Galaxy you people managed to take down the Goa'uld Empire I don't think I'll ever understand. But if you don't all get back to work, you are all probably going to die here".

The technicians started at her. She narrowed her eyes.

"SO GET MOVING!" she shouted and they scattered back to their stations. She gave Daniel a wink, then with perfect nonchalance, walked back to the wall and went back to reading the book recovered from Merlins vault.

Daniel blinked, then turned back to McKay as his radio crackled.

"Doctor McKay, this is Caldwell, come in"

"We're still here Colonel" McKay spoke as he brought up a screen full of graphs which were rather alarmingly moving from green up through the spectrum towards yellow. "The station is activating".

"Shut it down!" Caldwell demanded. McKay barely managed not to snap back at the officer.

"I've already tried that Colonel" he said, following Daniels directions as he moved through the stations specifications. "The computer isn't listening to me". McKay slapped at a crystal on the control pad. "Mitchell, you still there?"

"Right here Doc"  
"On the console near the ZedPM's there should be a crystal control with what looks like two capital letter A's stuck together at the top, positioned horizontal."

"Hang on" Mitchell said as Sheppard looked around, then spied the crystal. "Ah! Got it!"

"Ok we found it" Mitchell shouted back into the communications array, trying to be heard over the roar of the technology around them as it powered up.

"Ok, get the crystal and put it into a slot just under the centre module in the power array".

Sheppard yanked the module out and tossed it to Teal'c who easily slotted it in. A tiny control panel exposed itself.

"Ok it's in, a control panel just opened up".

"Good, tap the left side of the panel twice".

Teal'c tapped then the panel grayed out and shut.

"It just flashed then closed up again".

"Perfect, I should have control …oh no".

"What do you MEAN Oh No?" Sheppard demanded.

"I can't shut down the power flow! The Zero point modals are locked open!"

Cursing, the three joined Teal'c at the Console and started looking for inspiration to shut down the system…somehow.

McKay jumped back into the primary systems as the other technicians tried to find ways to redirect the power. "Well can we pull them out?" Mitchell's voice asked with the first traces of worry in his voice.

"Not a chance" McKay responded as he swapped two crystals around and brought up another screen. "The modules are locked in. And even if you could pull it free, if it's not shut down you'll just destroy half the solar system".

That comment made Sheppard, Mitchell and Teal'c carefully pull their hands away from the module they had been trying to pull out of the console.

"So what does this mean?" Pendergast broke into the channel. One of the scientists working at the console tossed Rodney a clipboard with some figures he glanced over, then grimaced.

"The ZedPM's are dumping energy from subspace into realspace at a steady rate. It has to _go_ somewhere. Right now it's going into the capacitors built on the station but as soon as they are filled, this entire place will explode with enough energy to be seen from Earth in oh…fifty thousand years?"

"So what are our options?" Caldwell asked.

"Either we activate the station or we run".

"I vote for run if anyone's interested" Vala chipped in from the seat next to Daniel.

"Seriously, not now, please" he begged, then turned back to the display.

"Well what is this thing supposed to DO?" Caldwell demanded.

"Once again, it could be a giant coffee peculator for all I know, we haven't had TIME to figure out the stations purpose".

"Well actually I was looking through that book-" Vala broke in before a glare from Daniel shut her up again.

"Well can we recover the ZPM's at least?"

"Not while they're active and locked. The only way to disengage them down is to let the station complete its primary program".

"Exactly" Vala beamed and reached past Daniel to point at an icon on the display. "You see the-"

"Can we divert the energy from the capacitors somewhere?" Daniel asked McKay who looked up at the technicians, both completely ignoring Vala who was rapidly getting irritated.

"For a limited time, it's not impossible" one of them said. "If we activate the shield generator, turn on everything on the station and so on we can soak up the power. If we had weapons we could simply shoot away the energy but-"

"It's only a temporary solution" McKay finished. "Unless we activate the station, and we don't know _what_ the station does, then-"

"It's a Gateway to another Universe you idiot" Vala snapped causing heads to turn in the control room and silence on the communications link.

"A what?" Daniel asked looking rather confused while McKay looked interested.

"Look here" she said, slamming the old book down in front of him, which caused Daniel to jump like someone had shot him with a zat. "This text here towards the back talks about some Ancients who left your sorry excuse for a planet to find a new place to do their Empire building. And here" she said with a smile as she turned to page to show a beautifully illustrated picture which perfectly matched the wireframe now flashing with red labels on the view screen, "it talks about their passage into the new Universe-"

"Okay Okay, it's like um a Quantum Mirror" McKay said for the benefit of everyone still listening in. Where too?"

"Doesn't say" Vala shrugged. "But if the Gate builders went there, there is a good chance they are still there. Or at least that the place isn't full of badly dressed eye glowing-"

"Where doesn't matter" McKay broke in. "Colonel Caldwell-"

"Doctor we don't have a clue what could be on the other side" Caldwell cut in, anticipating the next question. "Without knowing that, can we really risk opening the gateway?"

"Yes!" McKay responded in a heated voice. "If we don't, we loose the ZedPM's, we loose the station…we should be able to shut down the portal after it stabilizes".

Silence reached through the line for a good five seconds. McKay watched the graphs continue to climb and resisted the urge to start shouting into his microphone boom.

"Rodney, this is Elizabeth. Are you sure you can do this?"

"Yes" he replied automatically as he started programming commands into the mainframe.

"Ok. You have a go. What do you need?"

"Alright listen up" McKay said, still on VOX but addressing the people in the control room. "Everyone here but, Dr Jackson, me and his girlfriend need to get back to the _Daedalus_ now. Sheppard?"

"Here"

"I need your team to get down to the Hanger bay ten seconds ago"

"We're on it" the response came back as Vala stood up looking rather indignant.

"How come _I_ have to stay?" she demanded.

Daniel simply pointed at the bracelet on her wrist.

"Oh. _That_" she frowned as she remembered, reaching up to her vest and calmly loosening it to expose a generous portion of her cleavage.

McKay gawked as she reached in and removed a red crystal from in between her breasts, then tightened the black leather back up again. She waved the crystal over her armband then Daniels and both of them immediately flexed and unlocked. Daniel yanked it off and threw it against the wall with relief.

"Now don't get yourself killed" she admonished him, then grabbed his face and as his eyes widened in surprise, kissed him passionately until his chest felt like it would burst for lack of air, before breaking away and walking to stand with the technicians. She waved with a smile, and then vanished in a flash of light as _Daedalus _whisked them away.

"And you _don't_ want to go out with her?" McKay rhetorically muttered as he shook his head and got back to work.

"McKay we're here, now what?" Sheppard demanded as they sprinted into the hanger bay. The transporter room didn't actually open onto the bay itself, which was a logical precaution to guard against transporting into a decompressed area. Instead the transport room deposited them in an antechamber with doors to the left and right and a huge vertical door that dominated the far bulkhead. Tapping the control and opening the bulkhead door, Sheppard charged in-

-and came to an abrupt halt, Mitchell and Teal'c narrowly missing slamming into his back as they skidded to a stop.

They stood on a vast raised platform that circled the hanger, which had to be a good two hundred meters in diameter and forty in height, the floor being the very base of the stations central cylinder. Tucked in under the raised platform stretching left and right of them were puddle jumpers, at least ten of them but docking slips for four times as many. Directly opposite them a huge airlock built into the bulkhead allowed access to space. But the hanger was dominated by a huge metal rack that stretched from floor to ceiling in front of them. Mounted inside the rack were four of the strangest looking ships that Sheppard had ever seen. They were long and thin like needles, with what looked like hundreds of antenna neatly folded against their hulls.

"There are three things you have to do. Power the satellites which will generate the portal by connecting them to the grid, launch them and open the hanger doors". McKay paused. "Not necessarily in that order of course".

"Of course" Sheppard said trying not to roll his eyes. "How do we do this?"

"Ok there are four power conduits that have to be attached to the grid. Do you remember the grounding stations on Atlantis?

"Yes"

"They'll look like that". Sheppard shrugged and clattered down the stairs to the hanger deck with Teal'c close behind, the pair sprinting for the towering framework at the centre. "Colonel Mitchell?"

"Present"

"To your left you should be able to see a control room with a window looking into the hanger bay. Entrance is behind you". Mitchell looked around, saw the door and jogged back. He activated the door just in time to be thrown from his feet and stumble into the control room as the station rocked violently.

"What the hell was _that_"? Sheppard and Mitchell demanded simultaneously.

"Shield generator exploding" McKay responded in a tone that suggested they had just asked him how the weather was back on Earth.

"I would suggest you hurry" a new voice cut in, recognizable to most as Hermiod back on the _Daedalus_, now holding station several billion Kilometers away while _Prometheus_ stayed in close, ready to pull the last people off. "The energy buildup in the capacitors is beyond ninety percent".

"Great" Mitchell grunted as he got off the deck and slapped the door controls open.

"Sheppard, Teal'c you ready?"

It took John Sheppard approximately twenty seconds to sprint across the metal deck of the hanger bay to the huge framework in the centre. Plus the five seconds it took for him to get back off the floor after the stations shield generator detonated. Hauling himself back up, he closed distance, annoyed to see Teal'c hadn't fallen with the stations shudder and was waiting at the first station.

"Ok, we're at the stations, what do we do!"

"Right!" McKay said.

Then he turned to Daniel. "What do we do!"

"Hang on I've almost got it…just about"…Daniel was furiously scribbling on a pad of paper as he stared at the 'instruction manual' that McKay had helped him find in the mainframe.

"Ninety _three_" percent Hermiod calmly broke in. If he didn't know the Asgard better, McKay would swear the Asgard was getting a kind of perverse satisfaction at counting down their time to live.

_On the other hand, perhaps he _didn't _know him as well as he thought_.

"Dr Jackson, if you're going to do something, _now_ would be a good time" McKay muttered out of the corner of his mouth as a rumble started to build in the station, a vibration that steadily grew as Rodney diverted as much of the energy as he dared into the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity systems.

"Okay okay okay I got it!" Daniel said as he franticly finished his scribbles. He grabbed his radio from the console top and clicked three times rapidly for attention. "Colonel Sheppard, Teal'c, on each of the consoles enter the Ancient equivalent of one seven six six two one, then execute".

Sheppard forced himself through an act of shear will not to hammer the console as fast as his hands would let him and instead methodically touched the strange symbols one after the other, each making sounds like a Pegasus DHD being activated. When all six were lit, he pressed the execute button. Immediately the thick cylinder immediately behind the console jolted then smoothly connected to the conduits that ran into each of the four needle ships. Congratulating himself he looked up to see Teal'c nod, then they both ran for the second station.

Watching them from the control room, Mitchell followed instructions from McKay as he brought the hanger bay launch systems online. He wasn't as familiar with Ancient technology as Sheppard was but enough in the way of cross training had occurred before he joined the SGC that he was able to manipulate it well enough.

"Six one four four seven two three" he muttered to himself, carefully entering the code on the control station. Obediently, the holographic monitor switched to a wireframe view outside the stations lower core, with the rectangular door flashing green. Trying to ignore the dozen red warning icons flashing he thumbed his headset. "Ok that's it".

"We're good" McKay said with glee, then stabbed down on the control to start the launch sequence. Icons flashed yellow as the computer started to power the servomotors on the hanger bay door. Daniels eyes went wide. "Wait what about Teal'c and Sheppard?"

"Relax, the hanger bay is protected by an atmospheric shield"

"Even _with_ the shield generator destroyed?"

McKay stared at him for a good second, then Daniel grabbed the radio.

"OK that's it, lets go" Sheppard said as the final column connected and power flowed. A whirring sound, not unlike that of a puddle jumper started to come from the ships. They had reached the base of the stairs when Daniel jumped onto the radio.

"Guys if you're inside the hanger, get the hell out of there!"

Sheppard and Teal'c didn't question Daniel when he spoke in that tone. They pumped their legs and it was to their credit had made it to the top of the stairs when the huge bulkhead behind them split down the middle and a starfield became visible.

A high pitched screaming rapidly descended into a roar that built through the hanger bay as the air inside impossibly tried to shift and fill the infinite vacuum outside. Teal'c and Sheppard were thrown off their feet and they grimly dug their hands into the metal mesh that made up the platform, crawling their way forward. Teal'c managed to reach the door first and braced himself against a handhold inside. Sheppard thought felt his grip weakening as the airlock cycled wider and the force of the air increased. There was only a finite amount of air of course in the hanger, but he knew he couldn't hold on. And just as he thought it, he lost his grip, was yanked backward-

A grand total of one centimeter as Teal'cs hand grabed his wrist.

Moving force, meet unmovable object.

Teal'c's expression was one of simple determination.

The vacuum would not win. He would not let go.

Even as the air pressure dropped and the temperature plummeted, he refused to be defeated.

Even as the bulkhead his left hand was clamped to groaned in protest at the force being exerted upon it, he refused to let up.

Even as his muscles cried out in pain, he ignored them.

He would not yield.

He did however manage to turn his face enough to see the alarmed face of Colonel Mitchell inside the automatically sealed control room window trying to override the door seal. Teal'c gained his attention and nodded towards the console. Like a true warrior, the Colonel held his gaze for a second, then whirled back to the control panel and slammed his first on a flashing crystal as he shouting into his radio, but Teal'c couldn't hear as his ears screamed in pain from the pressure drop.

Far ahead of Sheppard, the engines on the four craft ignited, sending the quartet of ships rapidly out where they executed a sharp course change that took them up and away from the hanger. Teal'c's heart rejoiced at the fact that they had completed their mission. His respect for Mitchell grew as he saw that the Colonel knew where his duty lay and that death while performing ones duty held no dishonor.

But death would not claim him today.

His vision suddenly brightened to a complete whiteout…then faded to reveal the bridge of the _Prometheus,_ whose deck Teal'c and Sheppard rapidly thumped onto.

Mitchell and Daniel instantly leapt forward towards the gasping men and helped them up. Sheppard coughed, then slowly stood and faced Perndergast.

"Colonel" he said in a horse voice. "Permission to come aboard"

Caldwell probably would have thrown him back out the airlock for making such a jest.

Perndergast however chuckled with mirth and gestured to Daniel and Mitchell.

"Get them to the Infirmary" he said, glancing at McKay who after seeing the two were alive, ran over to the sensor readouts on the port side of the Bridge. The stars outside the ship blurred into hyperspace for a split second, then vanished as _Prometheus_ rejoined _Daedalus_ a good forty light minutes distant. The Asgard sensors on both ships had no problems monitoring the station at this distance and eyes were glued to view screens.

The four ships that the station had launched formed a diamond, perfectly on the line between the station and the systems star. Readouts showed the stations ability to store the energy the ZPM's were force feeding it at just about critical...then a dozen brilliant white beams shot from the station at the speed of light, all focused on the closest 'ship'. So bright were the beams that they would have blinded anyone within five thousand Kilometers looked at them with the naked eye. As it was, the stay behind drone _Prometheus_ had left lost its IR scanners in milliseconds as they completely burned out from the burst of energy. The first "ship" which had its stern pointed to the station appeared to wrap the energy around itself like a cocoon, then the folded appendages whipped open and a pair of white beams blasted to the next two middle satellites, then they in turn targeted the final of their number, forming a brilliant white diamond hanging in orbit of the systems star. Almost immediately as the loop closed, the star filled interior of the diamond started to shrink as the white beams appeared to thicken, expanding inwards at a steady rate.

"Incredible" McKay commented as he looked over the readouts of the energy being thrown around down there. It was completely staggering, yet the fact that the Ancients had so casually thrown it around almost frightened him. He wondered if those who had built this station had done so in humility, knowing the awesome power in their hands and the possibilities for misuse…or if they had wielded it in arrogance, thinking they could control it without any consequences, for they were the race that had seeded entire Galaxies with life…and death.

"Do we have any idea where this portal leads?" Pendergast said softly from behind him, watching the show so distant that the light would not even reach their position for over half an hour.

"Some idea" McKay allowed. "Doctor Jackson was translating a lot of the book on the fly while we trying to turn the place on. It _looks_ like the Ancients may have seeded the Galaxy on the other side with life, but at a much more accelerated rate then they did over here. And with a much greater interaction.

"So you're saying we might find humans more advanced then us on the other side?"

The Canadian shrugged in a non committal way. "It's a distinct possibility, yes. Apparently the group of Ancients who built this station took to calling themselves the 'Lords of Koobal' or something".

"The Lords of Koobal?"

"I know" McKay snickered. "Ridiculous isn't it? Though the book Dr Jackson has suggests that at least some of them return a few thousand years ago.

Their attention was drawn back to the screen as the four sides of the diamond met forming a perfect 2D diamond so bright that only the beam of energy coming from the station showed where the structure was.

Then the beam from the space station cut off and twin huge pulses of energy like the vortex on a Stargate shot out from both sides of the object, reaching back tens of thousands of meters, before snapping back into the white energy field. The nanosecond the vortex was absorbed, the fields glow faded to nothing leaving an almost invisible portal, its presence only betrayed by a steady refraction of the starfield behind it, like a mirage on a highway in summer.

"Well that's that then" McKay announced as the energy output of the station dropped off till once again it became a derelict.

Albeit an intact derelict.

Pendergast nodded towards the helm.

"Signal the Daedalus and take us back". Once more the starfield blurred then faded to reveal the station. McKay hurried down to the ships ring transporter which was tied into the stations grid, letting him and get a tech team into the power room in seconds. Walking inside, he quickly accessed the controls which were now agreeably co-operative and grinned as two of the three Zero point Modals unlocked and slowly retracted. The third the computer refused to eject, apparently still powering the portal in some small way. Shrugging, he ever so carefully removed the other two modules and placed them into a pair of foam padded security cases a technician held up for him. Putting the stations computer into standby, the group returned to the transport room, but it was the _Daedalus's_ ring room he appeared in, not that of _Prometheus_.

He held out the cases to the smiling face of Elizabeth Weir who was waiting in the equipment bay, then passed them onto a technician who headed aft for the ships cargo bays.

"So what's going on?"  
"We're heading back to Earth" she said. "With a ZPM at the SGC, we can finally get reliable two way travel to Atlantis up and running. We talked to General Landry and the plan is to install the other into the Daedalus so she can head back to Atlantis in a few days. General O'Neill has assigned Prometheus to stay and start initial investigations on the other side of the portal, assuming it's feasible".

"What about Colonel Sheppard?"

"He's fine" she reassured him as they passed through a bulkhead door towards the central spine of the ship. "They transported him over while you were on the station. Carson says he'll have a hell of a sore throat for a few days, but no permanent damage".

"Fantastic…wait…what about Doctor Jackson?"

At that moment a subtle shift in background noise of the ships powerplant said louder then words that the ships Hyperdrive just activated. McKay looked at her and his eyes went wide.

"You didn't"

She smiled. "He's been reassigned by the SGC to the effort here. General O'Neil pointed out that he is still the most qualified person on the Ancients…and everyone else who might have been able to spearhead missions to the other side of the portal are either on their way to, or at Atlantis".

"Did you tell him?"

She shook her head. "They wanted us back to Earth fast. So I didn't have time".

"Chicken". Weir looked at him in mock indignation.

"I am _not_"

"Chiccccken" McKay confirmed as he started to walk away. As he rounded the corner, the Canadian looked back flapping his arms and making loud clucking sounds. Weir stopped for a second to smile and shake her head, then stepped out of sight as she moved forward. Chuckling, Rodney turned… and saw Hermiod five meters in front of him, the Asgard starting at him with one eyebrow raised in a _very_ good impression of a human frown. The grey Asgard held his gaze for a second, then shook his head and entered the arriving lift to the engine room. The door rolled shut, leaving one very embarrassed Doctor Rodney McKay very much alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Orbit, P4X-221.  
P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"Search her. Again".

Vala Maldoran sighed in annoyance as a security guard obediently started to pat her down for the third time while another painstakingly rummaged through her small bag of possessions.

"How many times do we have to go through this?" Vala asked with a sigh, mockingly raising her arms and spreading her legs slightly. Standing opposite her, Daniel noticed with some amusement that her pose was enough to pull her leather clothes flush against her skin as she stared down the SF frisking her.

Daniel Jackson admitted she clearly had to body to pull off the not so subtle intimidation tactic. But it didn't do her any good, as while the Airman's face turned bright red, he obediently started to search her once again.

Daniel in his own way cared for her, despite the chaos that followed in her wake. He knew the cheerfully insincere attitude she put up for everyone wasn't much more then a front to hide the very real scars the Goa'uld Qetesh had left on her, after enslaving her, body and soul, for decades. If he didn't already hate the Goa'uld for killing his wife, killing or infesting others very close to him and enslaving billions across the Galaxy, her situation would have been more then sufficient.

Not that he trusted her further then he could throw her of course. But despite that, even Teal'c had to admit she grew on you after a while… Though he r_eally_ had to wonder why all the women in his life he had an interest in had been infested by Goa'uld symbiotes at one stage or another…

But at any rate…

"Until Colonel Pendergast is sure you didn't take anything" Daniel responded to her protest, stepping forward until he was right in front of her.

"So does that mean you're going to strip search me?" She asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she wrapped her arms seductively around his neck.

"Been there, done that" Daniel replied, tapping on the outline which had shown up when she had pulled her leather clothes tight. Her expression switched to one of annoyance and with a sigh she dropped her arms and extracted a carefully folded page from her vest, which she held out for Daniel to pluck from her hand and pass back to the SF.

"Now that that's over with?" Vala asked, pointedly staring at her bag. The second airman shook his head, replaced the contents inside the bag and handed it over to the still sulking woman. Vala immediately put it back down and dug into it, taking out the case with the tiara, which she immediately opened.

"You didn't think we would steel back did you?" Daniel asked in amusement.

"_I_ would" she pointed out, sounding mildly disappointed over the fact that Pendergast hadn't reneged on their deal.

"Well if you don't want it?" Daniel asked, reaching towards the case, then jerking his hands back as she snapped it shut, missing his fingers by a few centimeters.

"Just asking!"

The Elevator to their right lumbered open and Colonels Mitchell and Pendergast stepped out, followed by Teal'c who had dressed back into his formal high council robes.

"We all ready?" Mitchell asked as he caught sight of the pair standing outside the ring room. Not that they were using the rings, but the room had become the default location for transports on and off the ship and was off limits as such, meaning that there was no chance of anyone materializing inside anything that shouldn't be there

"Just about" Daniel said, slipping into his tactical gear. Theoretically they were only transporting down to P4X-221 for long enough to send some people through the Stargate, then receive some technical specialist from Earth, but standing orders for SGC personnel mandated full field kit when deploying to an unsecured off world environment.

"When you're ready to come back up, just signal on Tac-2" Pendergast said to Mitchell, handing him his P-90 and Beretta leg holster. "The flight deck should be finished by the time you get back".

"Sorry for turning you into a taxi service Sir" Mitchell smiled as he clipped the submachine gun to a fast grab sling, then tied the leg holster securely to his thigh, carefully adjusting it so it wouldn't pull as he walked.

"Don't mention it" the senior officer replied with a deadpan expression.

"Bring back some takeout and all will be forgiven".

The brilliant but not blinding light of the Asgard transporter faded from Daniels eyes, revealing the half familiar site of a Stargate sitting in a clearing. Looking to his right, a chill ran through his veins as he recognized the tree line, behind which Janet Frasier had died over a year ago in a hellish firefight with a battalion of Jaffa. The official US military report into the firefight had declared that one KIA and four WIA were acceptable losses, with over 60 enemy kills, plus a trio of Death Gliders shot down. Daniel knew that in the harsh balance book of military operations, the Pentagon might be justified in calling four casualties exchanged for over 60 of the enemy a successful withdraw under fire.

But Daniel would never forget what the mission had cost the SGC. One second, Janet had been focused on trying to stabilize an injured Marine. The next, a staff blast had lifted her up and thrown her down, dead. No tearful goodbyes. No brave face as she told Daniel to promise her that Cassie would be looked after.

No nothing. Just gone.

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, Daniel started forward behind Teal'c as Vala briskly strode to the DHD and punched in an address, lighting up the chevrons in sequence until the vortex exploded out of the Stargate. Slinging her bag up over her shoulder, she stepped up to the event horizon, then stopped and turned back.

"Well this is it" she said to Daniel.

"It is. I thought this day would never come".

"Oh come on" she said with a sly grin. "You're going to miss me".

"Miss what? The extortion? The fistfights?"

"The sex?"

Daniel tried not to roll his eyes. "We never _had_ Sex"

"And you don't have the tiniest regret over that?"

"I've already seen you naked. But I am curious about why you wanted that page."

"_Gods_ you're boring" she sighed, rolling her eyes, then apparently decided to humor him. "Because it speaks of another hidden cache of Ancient technology and various valuables. I couldn't read the more esoteric Ancient…" then she cocked her head slightly as if seeing Daniel for the first time.

"But iyou/i can…you know…working together, you and I could easily-"

With a not so gentle push to her chest from Daniel, Vala stumbled backwards cursing and vanished into the event horizon, which a few seconds later brightened to a dull white then dissipated as the Stargate shut down.

"Oh that felt good" Daniel said to Mitchell as he walked back to the DHD where Teal'c was punching in the address to Earth.

"Come on; tell me you're not going to miss her".

"Well…a little. The next time I get drunk perhaps".

Once again the Stargate engaged, ripping a tunnel through time and space that terminated deep under Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. Teal'c turned to face the other two men.

"I must depart. The council reconvenes within the hour on Dakara".

"Well if you ever get board with politics, just remember you can always come back and shoot at stuff with us" Mitchell put in, still not happy about the breakup of SG1 but accepting Teal'c's people needed him to get through the turbulent times. The Jaffa smiled slightly at his words and then bowed his head towards Cameron.

"We will see each other again Colonel Mitchell". Nodding at Daniel, Teal'c turned and stepped up to the Stargate. He paused long enough to send his iris identification code from his GDO, then walked into subspace, the Stargate closing behind him".

"And then there were two" Mitchell sighed.

"Oh lighten up. You got me didn't you?"

"True" he nodded, then frowned. "And now I owe Colonel Sheppard forty bucks".

Daniel rolled his eyes, but was saved from replying by the hissing clunk of a Chevron locking. The inner wheel of the gate started to spin clockwise as a second, then a third chevron locked in place. Daniel and Mitchell scooted out of the way, the Colonel casually gripping his 5.7mm weapon with one finger lightly resting on the safety…just in case this wasn't who he thought it was.

For the third time in as many minutes, a shimmering event horizon formed in the Naquadah ring. The tactical radios on their vests crackled with static, then a familiar voice came through.

"Colonel Mitchell?" Carmon clicked his radio twice for attention, then held the transmit button down.

"Here General, with Doctor Jackson".

"Well the technical advisor is ready to leave" Landry said in his all business voice. "Doctor Jackson, you will be pleased to know the ZPM has been tied into the SGC's power grid and is confirmed at about eighty percent charged. Doctor Weir and her team returned to Atlantis about three hours ago safe and sound".

"Well that's good to hear sir" Daniel, apparently quite cheerful that the Atlantis team had left without him again.

_I am going to kill Jack_ Daniel didn't say out loud…but everyone knew he was thinking it.

"Traveler is on route" Walters voice broke in. "Arrival in five, four, three, two, one…" and the Stargate rippled as a FRED cargo transport rolled out of the event horizon, then angled down and to the side, apparently parking itself (but actually under the control of the technicians back at the SGC). Expectantly, Cameron and Daniel turned to face the Stargate…and Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter stepped out.

"Sam!" Daniel exclaimed in complete surprise and delight as his friend carefully walked down the worn stone steps from the Stargate, which hissed then disengaged.

"Daniel" she said with a smile at the sight of her old teammate, accepting an embrace from him before turning to Mitchell and offering her hand, which Mitchell pumped with enthusiasm. Cameron had first met Sam when he assigned as a consultant on the X-302 program, catching up with the Major in between her off world missions. The two had spent more then a few hours at Area-51's commissary where she had told story after story of her adventures with SG1. Reflecting on those stories during his painful months learning to walk again convinced Mitchell that SG1 was where he wanted to be.

He didn't have SG1 of course…_yet_…but with Sam here, damned if he wasn't getting close.

"Sam. So you tired of teaching the egg heads how to build alien spaceships yet?"

"No" she said with a cheerful smile as she walked over to the FRED and dumped the laptop bag she had been carrying on top of it. "But I told you I'd be here if you needed me…and General O'Neill threatened to court martial me if I didn't get out from behind my desk and get some exercise.

Mitchell and Daniel laughed, the sound echoing across the clearing even as the flash of the Asgard transporter whisked them away and left the world to the ghosts of friends and foes.

"So do you actually know how to fly this thing?"

Mitchell glared at Daniel as the two of them walked along _Prometheus's_ Starboard hanger bay. Looking somewhat innocuous next to the sinister F-302's, the 'Puddle Jumper' (as it had been christened by one Major John Sheppard) was being swarmed over by a half dozen technicians under the direction of Colonel Carter. A diagnostic station had been wheeled up behind the ship and a half dozen fiber optic cables spooled into the Jumper as the techs prepared the Ancient ship for launch.

The pilots and navigators embarked with the Battle Cruisers F-302 squadron had scoffed at the cylindrical ship that had parked itself into 'pilot country' last night. The fact was the Jumper _was_ slower and less agile then an F-302. And that was all the flyboys needed to condemn it as not worth their time or interest (despite the fact that every single one of them had spent close to twenty minutes poking around inside it). After all it was a relatively 'cheap' utility vehicle (by Ancient standards anyway), not a space superiority fighter. Cameron, who had led those flyboys for over a year, took their ribbing with good humor. It was typical of pilots from anywhere on Earth. Where faster was better and fastest was king.

On the _other_ hand, the Jumper had enough space to bring along a squad of personnel in relative comfort, could land almost anywhere you could find ten square meters of ground, had a cloaking device making it more or less undetectable…and with it's drone launchers could blow ships the size of Goa'uld Motherships to hell.

So it wasn't _all_ bad…

"Yes I know how to fly this thing" Cameron responded to Daniel, who walked beside him down the bustling flight deck, his tactical vest slung over his shoulder rather casually. "I took a look at the jumper with the time traveling thingy back at Area-51 before I transferred over to the SGC. Sheppard gave me a few flying lessons in it while I was training him on the F-302".

"They let you fly the _time machine_ around?"

"_After_ they disconnected the time jump module, sure they did".

Daniel mulled on that as they edged around the diagnostic station and stepped up the ramp, being careful not to dislodge any of the cables.

"Ah. But I thought you needed the Ancient gene to use this thing?"

"I called in a favor" Mitchell shrugged, slinging his backpack into the overhead storage with a wave of his arm, then detaching his P-90 and laying it onto the acceleration couch. Daniel tossed his tactical vest over it, and then followed Mitchell up into the cockpit.

"After I crashed my F-302 into the South Pole, Dr Weir who you may remember was running the SGC at the time, sent me a letter thanking me for saving all of you, yada yada yada. The usual 'if there is anything I can ever do for you' stuff". So when she returned from Atlants with Dr Becket…

"You got Carson to give you that Ancient gene therapy" Daniel finished.

"And we have a winner" Cameron said, looking around at the controls and trying not to wince.

Cameron was impressed with the work the tech crew on the Prometheus had been able to get done in such a short time. Like the jumpers on Atlantis, this ship had been packed full of mundane Earth equipment. First aid kits, oxygen tanks and Co2 scrubbers, heavy weapons and field gear were mounted on fast access points on the bulkheads or stowed overhead in the cargo compartment.

Unlike Earth aircraft or spacecraft which emphasized functionality over style, the Ancient cockpit was almost a work of art. Softly glowing green and yellow panels set into the walls illuminated the cockpit along with track lights set into the roof of the Jumper. Plush leather chairs comfortably held four people inside the forward compartment, two forward for the pilot / co-pilot pairing, then another pair for secondary stations. A DHD based on the master DHD system on Atlantis was squeezed between the pilot and co-pilot stations, allowing the Jumper to remotely power and activate a Stargate without leaving the ship.

Then there was the window…

Mitchell _hated_ the window.

Having started his career in the Boeing F-15 Eagle, he had been trained with a full cockpit canopy giving him 360 degree visibility of the airspace around him. Due to the stresses involved in hypersonic flight, the more recent F-302's he had flown didn't have their cockpit canopies exposed above the fuselage but he could still see everything to his left, right and directly above him.

Where as the Puddle Jumper offered nothing but solid walls in every direction except dead ahead.

_The Ancients_ Mitchell thought, _had a chronic over reliance on technology_. In aggressor school, it had been drilled into his head again and again that the Mark 1 eyeball, despite the increasingly sophisticated (and multi-spectrum active and passive) sensors military aircraft possessed, was still the most reliable close range "sensor" in existence. The fact that the Ancients could only look dead ahead meant they relegated watching the five other major directions to the Jumpers sensors. Situational awareness was the key to any knife fight be it inside or outside an atmosphere…and if the sensors were jammed or otherwise rendered useless, they be screwed.

Intellectually, he knew the Jumper wasn't really a fighter. The drones could theoretically strike at any target in any direction without having to point anything as mundane as a launcher towards the enemy. The ship was designed to discourage pursuit, not get into a fight; it was a glorified transport after all.

But he didn't have to _like_ the design.

"All hands this is the bridge. Secure all stations and prepare for Hyper-launch". Pendergast's voice echoed through the metal canyon of the fighter bay for a few seconds, then was overtaken by the rumble of the ships engines as they increased in pitch for a few seconds, before dropping back down as the ship made a short hyperspace jump to the other side of the solar system.

"Ok that's it" Carters voice broke in over Mitchell's thoughts as the Colonel squeezed past Daniel and dropped down into the copilot's seat, unfolding a laptop onto the control console. On the surface it looked like your typical laptop. 'Under the hood' Mitchell knew was enough computer technology ripped off from the Goa'uld to make the laptop near as powerful as a high end Cray super computer.

What made it useful however was that Rodney McKay's latest interface program for Ancient computers had been installed. Taking a fiber optic cable and patching it into a data port next to her seat, the Laptops screen flashed and shifted to multiple windows showing wireframe schematics of the puddle jumper as well as windows for sensors, primary systems and life support. Nodding in approval, Carter folded the laptop up and turned to the rear of the craft.

"Ok Lieutenant, it all checks out. Let's close it up"

The officer nodded, starting to shut down his diagnostics station while other technicians finished rolling up cables and removing equipment from the interior of the ship.

"Soo, what's the plan?" Daniel asked, standing up and walking aft to start looking through the storage compartments for something.

"The drone Prometheus sent a few hours ago went through and back without any problem" Cater commented, swiveling her chair to regard Daniel with interest as he continued to rummage through the equipment. "It also confirmed that portal is transparent to radio and subspace transmissions, so we can keep in touch with the Prometheus from this end".

"So it's just a quick look around the block" Mitchell agreed, turning his own chair to regard Daniel. "What _are_ you looking for?"

"Just the…hah! Here it is" the archeologist exclaimed, pulling a ten thousand dollar digital camera down and dropping it onto the chair, then pulling out the book he had recovered from Gladsbery and walking back into the cockpit.

"Just a little light reading?" Mitchell asked as the technicians finished their work and dragged their equipment away.

"A little" Daniel admitted, pulling out the page Vala had torn (and he admitted to her credit she had done so very cleanly and carefully, so he wasn't that tempted to shoot her the next time he saw her) and carefully returned it to its place, then turned to the last chapters of the book. "There was a section here Vala found that dealt with the portal and the group of Ancients who went through it. Not in much detail, but I'll see what I can translate anyway".

"Fair enough. But you're going to miss the in flight movie and I hear it's going to be killer" Mitchell shrugged, turning back to the console. "Tower this is Shaft, requesting engine start clearance".

"Shaft, tower. You are clear to commence engine start procedures".

Mitchell tapped on the oddly square control crystals. The Jumper shook slightly under them, then the whirring hum of the ships powerplant filled the cabin.

"Shaft?" Carter asked with an amused expression, causing Cameron to turn, looking somewhat abashed.

"Its my call sign. Cam. Shaft. Cam-Shaft"…

"Ah". Carter said with a slight snicker, then turned back to her laptop. Mitchell sighed tolerantly and depressed another crystal, causing the ramp behind them to start rising steadily off the ground.

"Hull seals are good" Sam said, skipping down the abbreviated checklist as she prepared for flight. Technically the Jumpers 'expert systems' would check everything themselves far faster and more efficiently. But given the age of the ship (and fact it hadn't been used in many thousands of years), they weren't taking any chances. But eventually even Mitchell was satisfied the craft wasn't going to explode on takeoff and he settled his hands on the yoke.

The console illuminated and a soft humming resonated from the walls around them as power surged into the Jumpers flight systems, followed by a heavy clunk as the ramp locked into place as their rear bulkhead. Outside, an airman in a yellow vest started waving hand beacons forward and Mitchell eased the jumper slowly slid forward, suspended a few centimeters above the deck by its antigravity generators. The airman started to wave towards the right and he obediently slid the Jumper over, until it was in the middle of the bay, pointing down to the airlock doors at the far end.

"Primary engines armed, aft hatch secure"

Hovering in a stabilized holding position on the deck, the deck officer raised his arms and started to beacon downwards. Flicking a switch, Mitchell extended the jumpers drive nacelles. A quick visual inspection to make sure there were no clear problems with the extended engines (and the aft hatch really WAS shut) and the airman returned to the view port, delivered a thumbs up, saluted and retreated to the nearby airlock. As the bulkhead door locked shut leaving the hanger devoid of staff, yellow warning lights started to strobe

"Opening hanger door".

With a thud, the meter thick trinium bulkhead at the far end of the bay unlocked and retracted, revealing the star filled vacuum outside.

"Atmospheric shield confirmed. Snake null is cleared for launch".

"Copy that bridge" Mitchell responded, and then eased the throttle forward. "Please ensure all tray tables are in their upright positions and observe that the smoking sign is not lit, we are outa here".

Gingerly the Jumper pushed off the deck and drifted forward, picking up speed rapidly as the two sublight engines engaged, punching it through the Asgard forcefield with only a tiny amount of drag.

Leisurely curving away from the grey hull of _Prometheus_, Mitchell came around and had no trouble finding the Ancient space station. A technical crew was on board continuing to study the technology while they looked over the thousands of years of computer logs. Flying past slowly in the jumper, it was only from outside with such a clear view that its true size came into perspective.

"Wow that's big" Daniel said, leaning forward between Carter and Mitchell and stretching his neck to get a look at the alien structure.

"Pretty impressive" Mitchell admitted, kicking in the thrusters and curving around the structure towards the portal. "But it's this thing that concerns me". At this range the portal was visible to the naked eye, a distortion in space like heat waves rising from a highway in summer. "It's going to be a little hard to line up the approach".

"Hang on" Carter said, then reached past him and with a few deft keystrokes activated the Jumpers holographic heads up display, which obediently responded to Mitchell's mental patterns and outlined the diamond with green lines, noting the vertices and satellites station keeping there with green triangles.

"Hey that's pretty sweet" Cameron grinned and with a little concentration the HUD shifted colors, the shades rapidly shifting around as Cameron thought of them from wild pinks to deep blues.

"Showoff" Carter smiled from her seat, tapping the laptop as she double checked the sensor readouts.

"Oh that's nothing" Mitchell said with a gleam in his eye, then dramatically let go of the ships yoke and focused his thoughts. "Look, no hands!"

Obediently the Jumper responded to his mental commands and spun into a barrel role, the stars circling so fast outside for a few seconds that they became a blurred whirlpool of light before Mitchell grabbed the control again and steadied the ship. Probably the most disconcerting thing about the Jumper was its inertial dampening technology. Despite the rapid twirling, there was absolutely no sense of motion from any of the physical senses. The absence any feeling of acceleration or movement juxtaposed with what a persons eyes told them often made people 'space sick'.

Daniel had never really been one of those, but he grabbed Mitchell's shoulder to get his attention as his inner ear protested at the aerobatics.

"Don't. Do. That. Again".

"Snake null, Prometheus, you ok out there? You look a little off course"

"Fine Prometheus, just…uh…checking the inertial dampeners".

"Oh, good. If however they're working to your satisfaction Colonel, could we get on with the mission?" Pendergast asked sternly, but with an undertone of humor to his voice.

"Roger that, commencing run now"

Pulling back on the yoke, Mitchell brought the Jumper into a long climbing turn towards the portal which steadily grew ahead of them. Looking at it front on with the HUD defining its shape, Mitchell realized the shear size of the thing. It _dwarfed_ the space station that had generated it, at least four kilometers between the opposing corners of the diamond.

"Ok, take us down the centre" Carter ordered, reading over the scant data the computers on the station had provided about the transition through the Gateway. "Impact in twenty two seconds".

"Copy that" Pendergast said. Out of the edge of the viewscreen, Mitchell saw _Prometheus_ under power moving to a few hundred meters under the space station. The placement was quite deliberate. From that angle, the ship was effectively impossible to see from the other side of the rift, while _Prometheus_ could bring the majority of her weapons to bear on any target…it also meant _Prometheus_ could blow the station if absolutely necessary to prevent a galactic foothold situation…something that the trio inside didn't dwell on, considering that they might get left behind. The subspace communications technology used in the Jumper and _Prometheus_ didn't require a line of sight fortunately, so at least communications wouldn't be a problem.

But such was the risk of working for Stargate Command Mitchell thought, as the window was entirely filled with the shimmering wavering surface of the rift.

"Impact in five…four…three….two…one-"

The second the nose of the jumper touched the portal, something like 'lighting' arced around and inside the small ship, so fast that the trio inside the ship barely had time to see the arcs of light around them as they brightened to an overwhelming flash…which snapped off as the Jumper was yanked through the dimensional breach in a timeframe approaching a femtosecond, then shoved into a universe impossibly distant but impossibly close.

Daniel blinked.

It had taken only that long for them to skip through the portal, but Mitchell was already in action, accelerating the Jumper hard into a defensive turn, just in case anything was waiting in ambush on the other side. The drone hadn't shown anything in the area, but Mitchell wasn't taking any chances.

The lack of weapons fire a good five seconds after their reversion convinced Mitchell that they were probably clear and he eased up on his corkscrewing and into a more stable trajectory, slowly curving back towards the massive portal behind them.

"No ships or energy signatures on the sensors" Carter said after studying the HUD's sensor readout.

"Concur" Mitchell agreed, bringing the ship to a halt in front of the portal as he activated the ships communications systems.

"Prometheus this is Snake Null. Reversion is successful, no sign of any welcoming party…"

"…at this time. Carter wants to conduct long range scans of the system and see what we're dealing with here".

"Approved" Pendergast said, relaxing slightly as the Colonel reported in. Despite all the guarantees he had been given that the portal was perfectly safe to move through, he had a distrust of strange alien technology, even if it had been built by the Ancients. "Report every thirty minutes"

"Will do sir, Shaft clear". With a buzzing snap, the channel shut, leaving Pendergast little to do. Looking at the chronometer he saw that this watch would end in less then half an hour, but he decided to stay on the bridge until the first reports came in. The prospect of a boring half an hour sitting in his chair while the ship was at station keeping was thankfully put to rest by Lieutenant Marks stepping around his chair from the aft sensor stations. The young officer had eschewed his usual place at the weapons console for the aft sensor stations to monitor the transition of the Jumper and he stepped up with printouts of the readouts.

"Sir" he said, standing at parade rest until Pendergast nodded and gestured for him to go on. "The preliminary sensor readouts from the Jumpers transition". Marks presented a clipboard with hardcopy graphs and charts from just about every sensor system the _Prometheus_ possessed, and a few that the technicians on the space station had sent across.

"Translation?"

"There was no increase on the drain of the stations ZPM when either the drone or jumper went across, its power drain remained completely stable. There was however a surge of energy _in_ the rift".

"How so?"

"The readings are not entirely clear, but it looked like the energy inside the rift surged towards the Jumper when it touched the rift, then snapped back to an even distribution once it was through to the other side. Think of it like the jumper pushing into a plastic sheet hanging in space, which was pulled down and wrapped itself around the Jumper as it moved forward until it was completely wrapped in it, then evened out again. There was a similar surge for the drone, but of a smaller magnitude…"

Pendergast simply stared at the junior officer.

"Lieutenant, I'm more then happy to hear Carter talk about theoretical astrophysics. Mostly because she generally has a point where she explains the significance of her latest discovery…"

"Uh, sorry Sir" Marks said with an abashed grin. "In short it might mean that there may be a correlation between the mass of an object and ability of it to pass through the rift".

"You're saying that more massive objects might not be able to pass through?"

"Yes sir. There must be an upper limit, though from my initial guesswork it would be well above a Goa'uld Mothership. The interesting point is the rift has to stabilize before a new ship could cross over and the time it takes to stabilize will probably depend greatly on the mass of the ship that went through…"

_Now_ Pendergast saw where Marks was going.

"Meaning that it isn't likely that a fleet of large ships could pass through the rift in rapid succession. Good work Marks".

"Sir" he replied, then handed off his hardcopy printouts to an airman and stepped back to the weapons console, relieving the officer who had taken his place for the long wait until the next contact.

"Well that's funny" Mitchell suddenly spoke up.

"Funny 'ha ha' or funny 'that really shouldn't have happened'" Carter asked as she looked up from her computer.

"No _that_ was funny, _this_ is strange" Mitchell said, pointing to the edge of the window, where a blue orb was visible. It was just small enough to be hidden by his thumb from this distance, but enough detail was clear to show it was a planet that looked very similar…

Bringing up the HUD again, Mitchell switched over to the sensor readouts and with a little concentration, brought up a solar system view. No mistaking it, P4X-221 in this universe was damn near on the opposite side of the star.

"That shouldn't be there, right?"

"Well it's hard to say" Carter replied. "Assuming the gateway is in the same relative position in both universes, it would mean for whatever reason that the orbital positions of the planets are out of synch".

"Let's take a look" Mitchell said in a voice that clearly said he didn't find it interesting in the slightest as he brought the Jumper around towards the planet and brought it up to speed.

To cover a distance of roughly two million Kilometers would have taken something like a month for the Space Shuttle, assuming it had the fuel to accelerate out of Earths orbit and cruise along the way. The Puddle Jumpers internally compensated engines got them there in less then ten minutes.

"So Daniel, what does the good book tell us about this planet?"

"Well not much, unfortunately" Daniel said, having replaced the book in the storage compartment for a laptop which he was typing up some notes with. "The Alterraians who-"

"Whoa, back up for a second" Carter said. "Who exactly are the Alterraians?"

Daniel kicked himself, forgetting that Sam hadn't been with them at Glastonbury. He filled her in quickly, explaining the history in the book he had found.

"Well that makes sense" Carter said after thinking it over for a few seconds. "They couldn't have always have been 'the Ancients' when you think about it".

"Point" Daniel agreed. "Anyway, it says the Alterraians settled on a planet called Kobol. From what the book said, two thousand years ago there was some kind of falling out between the Ancients who led the colony they had founded. Most of them had given up on their dreams of rebuilding their Empire and wanted to return home".

"Home as in our Earth?" Mitchell enquired, listening to Daniels story while he moved them into a low orbit.

"The very one. From the data the Atlantis team has sent back and what I read today, it looks like the majority of the Ancients who came back from Pegasus to Earth, arrived shortly before Ra did. They lacked the numbers and infrastructure to fight off the Goa'uld, so most of them went to small outposts off world. About three thousand years ago, with the uprising against Ra, some of them returned and helped from behind the scenes as it was, to clear the dozen other Goa'uld from the planet, with the help of the Asgard who posed as the Norse Gods, again from behind the scenes. They became historical figures of great learning and knowledge. The oldest known survivor was in fact, Merlin".

_That_ revelation of course set off another five minutes of explanation for the benefit of Sam.

"Well this is all fascinating Doc, but can we get back to current events?" Mitchell asked as he cut his acceleration and moved into a stable orbit.

"I'll make it fast" Daniel promised, closing down his laptop. "Almost all records of the Ancients vanish, Merlin being one of the exceptions, about two and a half thousand years ago, but allude to a great journey they took to join their long lost brethren".

"They Ascended?" Carter guessed. Daniel shrugged.

"Quite probably, but it doesn't elaborate. Now there had been some level of contact between the two groups of Ancients, probably through the space station after the Ancients helped kick the Goa'uld off Earth. I think that a large group of the Ancients on Kobol wanted to return to our Universe and ascend. But a minority of the Ancients wanted to stay and continue with their Empire building. The disagreement escalated and in the end, a large chunk of the Ancients along with one of the tribes, the so called 13th tribe, left Kobol for Earth and returned to Earth about 700 to 600 BC…"

Mitchell and Carter exchanged a look at Daniels clear excitement, which said neither of them had a clue where he was going with this.

"The _Roman Empire_ was founded about 700 BC" he said with slight exasperation. "The guys who spoke Latin which is really a simplified form of Ancient, who we know had extensive contact with the Greeks who in turn clearly had been influenced by the Ancients who returned from Pegasus-"

"Hold it" Mitchell suddenly spoke up. "I'm getting something on the ships sensors"

"I see it" Carter agreed, typing away on her laptop. "It looks like some kind of massive energy surge, no dozens of them, forming about fifteen thousand klicks ahead of us"

"What is it?"

"I have no idea…it's almost certainly artificial…the harmonic looks similar to matter energy conversion in a Stargate or ring system…some kind of transportation device?"

"Swell" Mitchell muttered, hitting the subspace communications array. "Prometheus, Snake Null has possible contacts approaching, we are going dark for two zero minutes". Not even waiting for a response, Mitchell shut the channel and goosed the ships engines. "Engaging stealth mode".

The Jumper which had been sitting in orbit suddenly started to move off and as it did, shimmered and faded from sight, leaving the planets orbital space once again deserted.

For about five seconds anyway.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

The flash of light cleared from Commander William Adama's eyes as Galactica materialized back into real space. On the ships DRADIS console, icons appeared as the sensors swept space and started to display the green icons of friendly targets as they interrogated IFF transponders.

"Jump two eight nine complete. Planet close aboard to port, no unknown contacts" Lieutenant Felix Gaeta reported, and the two dozen personnel in close proximity breathed a silent prayer of thanks that they had not materialized inside a star after this jump out to nowhere. Low conversation started as the technicians in the CIC started on their post jump checklists, covering the sound of the senior officers in the 'pit' at the centre of the command centre as they started to converse.

"Well we're here. _Now_ what?" Tigh predictably opened the conversation. The two senior officers on the Galactica as well as the President and Vice President had kept the reasons behind this jump to themselves, not willing to raise false hope on what might be a completely wasted trip. Granted the evidence Baltar had presented was compelling, or they wouldn't have dragged the entire fleet twenty light years off course, but avoiding a leadership crisis was absolutely critical.

"Well the star maps suggested that this system would either contain Earth or aid us, somehow, in heading towards it" Baltar said. "The planet would probably be a good place to start".

"A planet is a large place to search Doctor" Adama put in as he looked over the first images from the ships cameras focusing on the lush green and brown sphere serenely rotating under them. "Dee, do you have anything from the planet?"

Petty Officer (second class) Anastasia Dualla sitting up in the rows of consoles that ringed the 'pit' looked up from her console after several seconds, and then shook her head. "No active emissions on any frequency from the planet Sir".

"Well this isn't Earth".

"Clearly" Lara Roslin agreed. "But we can't leave this quickly. After all, the tomb of Athena was embedded in a small cliff in a mountain range…we don't know what we might find down there".

"I would agree" Adama said after a few seconds of reflection. "At the least, it looks like a safe enough place to stop for a while and try to take stock of our situation. We might even get lucky and be able to load up some raw materials". Adama turned and raised his voice to reach everyone across the CIC. "Lieutenant Gaeta, launch the CAP and signal the flight deck to prepare a Raptor for high altitude photo-recon on the planet. Helm, move us into orbit. Have the civilian ships form inside our orbit, but keep them, and us, high enough so we can jump if needed".

"He's looking in the wrong place again" an intruder on the bridge announced, visible only to the Vice President. Six smiled thinly as she stepped up next to Adama, looking at him dismissively.

"Well we're do you suggest we look" Baltar muttered out of the side of his mouth in a somewhat irritated tone at her intrusion.

"That's your job Doctor" Tigh responded with a cool expression, shocking Baltar for a second. He didn't think the Colonel, who was standing next to him, had been paying attention.

It also didn't help that the phantom next to the Commander was clearly trying not to laugh at his predicament.

"Well yes of course" Baltar said in a smooth voice as he improvised on the spot. "But a planet is a rather large place to look, what is the fastest way to cover the most ground?"

"From orbit? Raptors running high resolution mapping runs. It should show a city or large town easily enough. Anything smaller though we'll never find.

"Ah very good then, I'll head back to my office and start working out the particulars".

"Very well" Tigh said, looking at him oddly, but not commenting as he left the bridge.

"I wish you wouldn't do that" Baltar muttered as he walked through the corridor, apparently to thin air. Six simply laughed again, clearly highly amused with the situation.

"We've been over this" the Cylon said as she edged around a crewman heading in the opposite direction. Idly, Baltar wondered why she was always dodging around people and things in her way rather then simply walking through them, but decided in the end that he really didn't care.

"I am here to guide you. But you still hold back, you only accept my guidance when it's convenient for you".

Gaius didn't even bother to respond to yet another cryptic scolding, turning through a pair of cross corridors and down a ladder, Six unsurprisingly was waiting at the bottom of it, leaning up against the wall in a shimmering blue dress.

"God is not a last resort Gaius". Baltar walked past her without stopping, only to find her around the corner, sitting on a crate of supplies in a stunning red dress. Giving up, he looked around and saw no-one, stepping into a cross corridor.

"And what does he have to do with anything here?"

"He has everything to do with anything" she corrected him, uncrossing her legs and sitting up against the wall. "You are completely incapable of acting on faith. You are constantly trying to unravel everything God has in store for you and analyze it in the minutest detail, rather then embrace the mystery for what it is".

"Oh do tell" Baltar said with a raised eyebrow. "What is the great mystery…this time".

Six smiled. "That we have reached the point of no return, if you will. The planet is completely irrelevant, the system is not". Her smiled changed, somehow becoming both sinister and strangely…unsettled. "This is the path of the 13th we follow. From here on out the fate of the few, will become the fate of the all. Today…everything changes. For _everyone_".

"Viper one, clear forward, navcon green. Launch when ready"

Captain Lee 'Apollo' Adama was slammed back into his seat as his Mark VII Viper screamed down one of _Galactica's_ port launch tubes. The walls of the cylindrical tunnel turned into a vague blur as his eyes tried their best to roll around and take a look at the inside of his head. Long experience let him hold his focus as the tiny black disk that represented open space rapidly got closer. The acceleration leveled off and he was able to get a firm grip on his controls just in time, as the Viper shot out of the end of the tube and roared into space. A few seconds later, Lieutenant Kara' Starbuck' Thrace shot from the tube next to his and with an economy of motion, rolled up onto his wing, turning with him back towards and over the _Galactica_.

"Galactica, Apollo. Clean launch".

"Roger that Apollo" Dualla responded from the command centre buried deep in the behemoth next to them. "Assume BARCAP at Galactica relative five hundred out".

"Copy that" Apollo said, goosing his thrusters and curving up and over the massive anti ship Railguns that lined the Battlestars dorsal hull, switching to his flight channel. "So Starbuck, any bets on what we're going to find here?"

"Frak if I know" her voice cracked back over the wireless link. "Still, I like the quiet for a change. It feels like I've been constantly on the move ever since I…uh…_borrowed_ that raider and headed back to Caprica-"

"Borrowed? So you're going to bring it back?" Apollo playfully added as he cut his throttle.

"Quiet you" she snorted as they cleared the last civilian ships "Sometimes you just have to get out here, cruising along, nothing but the stars and your wingman, just to find yourself".

"I hear that" Apollo replied in complete agreement. The chaos over the last few weeks had taken its toll on every one of his pilots, and he didn't doubt on everyone else through the fleet. It was a major miracle that both he and Kara (and their authority for that matter) had been accepted back so readily by those who had remained "loyal" to Tigh and his father. He had truly been brought to tears by how readily his father had simply opened his arms as a father and not his commanding officer back on Kobol. The last time they had talked, he had just openly defied him and was standing in handcuffs before him, after pulling his weapon on Tigh.

All Apollo's self control. All the words that he had thought to say to his father, all his defensive walls…all completely failed him as his father had simply opened his arms. His actions saying louder then any words that he simply wanted his Son back…and he didn't give a damn about anything in the past…which would stay in the past.

"Uh Apollo…" Starbucks voice suddenly crashed into his thoughts, snapping his attention back into his cockpit.

"Yes?"

"We're here for Barrier cap, not a deep strike mission" she pointed out in an amused voice. Looking at his displays, he saw instantly he had missed the turn for the first part of his patrol leg by about ten seconds. His face went red under his light spacesuit helmet as he realized he hadn't been paying attention…which was a good way to get ones self killed in the ultra responsive Mark VII Viper.

Hauling around sharply, he angled back towards his patrol line and flicked his communications back to the fleet channel.

"BARCAP is on station".

"Roger that CAG" Dee replied, either having not noticed his lapse or choosing not to comment on it (Apollo was certain it was the later, nothing got past the petty officer) as they settled down onto their leg. Kara remained blessedly silent, either having gotten her amusement already or using their 'free time' for some introspection. He didn't know much about her time on Caprica…but he knew she had strong feelings for someone she had met in her time with the Resistance there and she needed time to work out her feelings that she had brutally pushed down while there was a job to do.

BARPCAP or Barrier Combat Air/Aerospace Patrol was a combat patrol stationed much further from the fleet then a normal CAP, which typically stayed in and around the fleet. The idea being that the BARCAP could provide additional warning and much faster interception of an enemy, buying time for the _Galactica_ to scramble its full load of craft.

A theory that was about to be put to the test.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

A half dozen alarms went off in the CIC at the same time, causing Colonel Tigh to snap his head around at the master DRADIS display. The tactical board showed the scarlet red icons of unknown but presumed hostile contacts materializing in a loose sphere around the fleet and his heart caught in his breath. There were at least five primary targets starting to be painted on the screen and if each was a baseship…

"Set condition one throughout the fleet. Launch the alert fighters now, call back the BARCAP and hold off on the Raptor recon launch" he snapped, sending everyone scrambling in the CIC. Five seconds later the 'hot phone', the direct link to the commanding officers quarters, started ringing. The Commander had left for his quarters along with the President to try and work out a systematic plan to investigate the system, which was probably forfeit now…_assuming they survived the next fifteen minutes anyway_ Tigh thought darkly as he pulled the phone.

"Adama, SITREP".

"Multiple capital class contacts have jumped in around us; alert fighters are prepping for launch".

Adama paused for a second on the other end of the line. "I'm on my way" Adama's replied shortly and the line went dead.

One of the secondary screens in the CIC showed the tactical situation from a view above the systems orbital plain. The planet was situated at the far left of the display, at this orbital altitude as a curved wall rather then a sphere. The dozens of icons that represented the civilian fleet sat in the lowest orbits, effectively trapped against the planets gravity well. To the right of them a fair distance away sat Galactica and at twice that distance were the two Vipers on patrol, turning inbound and heading back towards the fleet. Another four times that distance were the red icons of the enemy contacts in a line three across, the middle icon sat on a line defined through the planets core and Galactic, shadowing its position down to the meter. Two ships were at the same orbital path as the central contact, but covering the extreme flanks to prevent the fleet from punching straight forward or backwards from its orbital path. A closer examination of the middle icon would reveal it was fact three ships, but as two of the ships were directly above and below the middle ship, the 2D display didn't paint them as discrete objects, just adding additional alphanumeric tags to show their presence.

It was in essence, a blockade. The ships had to be Cylon Baseships. When the extended range of their massed missile batteries and huge raider complement was taken into account, the enemy ships could simply sit in their orbits and bombard the fleet into scrap. Galactica with her extensive anti-fighter/ordinance defenses and own fighter complement could maintain a defensive umbrella for a time, but there was no way they could survive an all out engagement. And as the fleets drives would need at least another…fifteen minutes to recharge for the jump….

"New DRADIS contacts across the board, we have incoming raiders" Gaeta warned.

"Get me a count" Tigh ordered, willing the alert fighters to launch faster. The Cylons had been ready for battle and had started unloading attack craft as soon as they had reverted. _Galactica_ on the other hand needed time.

"Forty plus…fifty….sixty…contacts are holding at sixty sir" Dee said in surprise. Each base star was estimated to carry well over a hundred of the fast powerful raiders. Why they were holding off…

"That's just the Basestars fighter screen" the Colonel said dismissively. "Their strike force will be next".

"Alert fighters are launching" Gaeta added, new green icons starting to appear on screen around the Galactica, forming into squadrons behind Apollo and Starbuck as Commander Adama walked into the CIC with the President in tow.

"Confirmed sensor profiles" Gaeta sung out. "Now designating the boogies as bandits"

The screen updated, the red icons for 'unknown – presumed hostile' changing to the all too familiar threat icons for Cylon Basestars and Raiders.

"Helm, roll us out ninety degrees to port" Adama ordered calmly as he assumed his position next to Tigh at the centre plot, the President next to him, but standing a respectful distance from the table to not get in the way. "Gun Captains, stand by for defensive action. Have the armed civilian ships form up ahead and above the rest of the civilian ships and prepare the fleet to make a break on course…" Adama paused and consulted the display "four four nine, carom ten". The commander turned back to Tigh. "Helo was about to fly out on that recon run?"

Tigh nodded.

"Good. Have him make a run to Colonial One the second the President and Vice President get on board".

"Commander, I'm happy to stay on board" Laura protested. "There is no need to have a raptor ferry me back to Colonial one when-"

Adama turned a look on her that stopped her dead in her tracks. Not because of anything directed at her…but because it was just….resigned.

"Madam President, there is an excellent chance the Galactica will not survive this engagement. We should be able to buy enough time for the fleet to escape to safety. Please leave the ship immediately".

Knowing that any argument or insistence that he was wrong would be both grossly insulting to the crew of the ship as well as a waste of time, Laura simply extended her hand.

"I'll see you on the other side Commander".

Adama took it firmly and shook it, and then the President wheeled and left the CIC at a trot with a Marine guide. Turning back, he felt rather then saw the eyes of his entire crew on him.

"Alright. You've all seen what's out there; you know the chances of survival. But our survival is secondary to the survival of the fleet. No matter what happens to the Galactica, the human race has to live on beyond this day".

His crew simply returned his gaze with the calm steady looks of professionals. Everyone one of them would die before letting the Cylons take even a potshot at one of the packed civilian transports and he was damn proud of them.

"Additional enemy strike craft launching" Dualla warned and a much larger swarm of icons started to poor out of the Base Stars. A new alarm went off suddenly and Tigh's eyes narrowed.

"Radiological alarm" he muttered. "They brought nukes to the party".

"Figures" Adama shrugged. "See if you can isolate which ships are carrying them. Signal the fleet; Execute acceleration along the predefined course".

A few seconds later, _Galactica's_ massive sublight drives ignited.

**Puddle Jumper Snake Null.  
Orbit, Alternate P4X-221  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"We can't!"

"Yes we can!"

"Are you trying to get me court marshaled?"

Mitchell sighed at Daniel finally understanding what General O'Neill had said, when he had told him that while Daniel was his friend on a level few people could understand…but could rapidly become a pain in the ass where military protocol was concerned.

Their current argument was about what involved, if any, they should make to the massive battle that was about to start. Fifteen minutes of eavesdropping to the civilian radio chatter, including highly entertaining media shows, had lead everyone to the opinion that this was some kind of refugee fleet trying to find Earth of all places. But if the rampet speculation about this start system was any indication, they didn't have a clue where it was. On top of that, some kind of artificial life form they called the Cylons, who no doubt were in charge of the fleet that had just materialized, were interested in wiping out this offshoot of the human race.

Which of course was the crux of the argument.

"Hey Daniel, remember the Eurondans?" Daniel of course knew exactly where this was going to go, but sighed and sat back.

"Yes".

"And remember how Jack was willing to jump head first into a world war without thinking?"

"Yes. But the scenarios are HARDLY the same-"

"But close enough. We'll go back to the Prometheus and let Pendergast decide what he's going to do. But we didn't come here to jump head first into yet another intergalactic war without thinking."

Daniel kept his peace (clearly with some difficulty) as Mitchell brought the puddle jumper up to speed along the course Carter plotted. Unfortunately the rift was very much on the far side of the ships that had just materialized. But there was an excellent chance that they would get through undetected; these newcomers sensor technology didn't look any more advanced then the first groups.

Rapidly outstripping the fighters from the Galactica, Mitchell punched the throttle and streaked out towards the Cylon ships. Looking at his HUD, Mitchell had to wince. There were so many Cylon ships that they severely limited his maneuvering options. Going straight up or straight back meant he would have to stay in 'no mans land' that much longer where as straight ahead meant he would be charging several hundred craft who were, according to carter, carrying lightweight nukes.

Screw it Carmon decided and held his course, decelerating rapidly as the distance closed. The Jumper was grossly more maneuverable then these weird ships and their formations were more then open enough for him to fly through with a minimum of maneuvering. The ships designs were actually somewhat spooky, with what looked like a giant red eye scanning back and forth in its head. Every time one of them focused in their direction, it took all the self control he had not to yank back on the stick, feeing that it had seen him. But the jumpers cloak saved them, not one of the strange craft noticing their presence.

Until they opened fire.

Hundreds of white trails of missiles suddenly leapt to life as the Raiders fired a salvo off. Mitchell recognized the tactic as soon as he saw it. At this range, the missiles would take plenty of time to reach the _Galactica_ so there wasn't any real danger to the ship if it had any decent defensive firepower. But the salvo would force the Battlestar to shift fire and engage the missiles first before they engaged the Raiders, eating up valuable ammunition or energy reserves, preventing an effective first strike on the anti ship pack…but critically, letting the Raiders get in much closer without being contested, to launch a much more deadly attack.

But not a single one of the missiles knew that there was a cloaked puddle jumper directly in their path and this single missile would change two universes forever.

Mitchell, despite his incredible skill and reflexes, couldn't handle suddenly having to dodge several hundred more objects that just appeared without warning in the tight clusters of the Raiders. Understandably, the Raiders were firing through the gaps they had left open in their formations so as not to shoot their own craft. But it left Mitchell with so little space to maneuver that it was inevitable that one of the missiles suddenly impacted on absolutely nothing and exploded.

This was confusing to the raider that had fired it as well as the rest of the pack around it, who worried about their own missiles.

Although its warhead was well designed and failed to detonate, the blast of the missiles rocket engine was enough to rip into the exposed drive nacelles of the Puddle Jumper. The relatively low yield detonation did little damage to the ships engines and weapons systems. But the fragile cloaking system on the other hand…

"Oh this is NOT good" Mitchell shouted in alarm as the jumper bucked under him. Wrestling with the controls, Mitchell punched through the last of the line of raiders as the ships cloak failed with a mechanical whine of protest and rendered them completely naked to the sensors on the Cylon ships.

"They're locking us up" Carter warned looking as the distinctive spikes of high frequency fire control radar focused on them. It was almost like a half dozen search lights snapping onto you in the middle of a prison break, before which everything had been going perfectly smooth. A most unwelcome and displeasing change in affairs.

"Can you get the cloak back on line?" he asked Carter as he tried to activate it again with no result. Looking at the HUD, he saw that the strike force of Raiders had collapsed with squadron after squadron turning and chasing after him in a futile tail chase. Granted the Jumper wasn't an F-302, but it was still had orders of magnitude better acceleration then those ships did and unless he slowed down, they had no chance of even matching his current speed.

But of course even by chasing him they limited his maneuvering options to more or less dead ahead…right for the trio of vertically stacked Basestars which probably had more then a few of their own weapons. "Carter?"

"Working on it Cameron" she replied, typing away, and then shook her head. "It's no good, the cloak is damaged and isn't getting any power. I'd need to get at the generator itself to see if I could fix it".

"Well I think it's about time we called home" he muttered, slapping at the control.

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Close formation, Ancient Space Station.  
P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"Marks check the clock" Pendergast ordered, having managed to avoid asking the same question every minute for the last twenty minutes. He actually knew exactly what time it was, but it didn't hurt to have conformation.

The Lieutenant glanced at the clock built into his console.

"Coming up on twenty minutes sir, SG1 should be reporting in any minute".

"So we hope" Pendergast agreed, knowing if they were under cloak they might not be able to keep the estimate they Mitchell had given. "Though, technically they aint SG1".

"Well…true. But as Colonel Mitchell is trying to reform the team…though without General O'Neill, it's just not the same".

"Well no-one has opened fire and the Jumper hasn't blown up…yet" the helm officer muttered under her breath, getting a laugh out of the ships Captain as the radio crackled with static.

"Prometheus this is Snake Null, come in". Marks took the communication.

"Null, Prometheus, go ahead we are standing by for-"

"Prometheus, Null is under attack by many hostile fighter craft with capital ship support, requesting immediate backup for hot extraction".

The helm officer was already laying in a course to the rift as Pendergast looked down at her. She then turned with a perfectly level face.

"With respect to my previous comments sir, I withdraw my objections".

**Puddle Jumper Snake Null.  
Orbit, Alternate P4X-221  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"We've got about a million of these damn fighters coming in on every side. Daniel, any luck?"

"None so far" he said with a grimace. He had been trying without any success to contact these Cylons and let them know they didn't mean them any harm and were neutral to this fight, but they clearly weren't buying any of it.

"Launch Launch Launch! Missile tracks inbound from the Basestar" Carter stated, as the HDU pained a new cluster of contacts heading straight for them.

"Doctor Jackson, I think you have your answer" Mitchell grimaced as he accelerated right for the missiles".

"Uh don't you think you should dodge?" Daniel asked as the clusters closed awfully fast on the Jumpers icon.

"No" he said. "That's what they want us to do, it'll slow us down"

"Uhh….so what are you going to do?"

"This" he said as the missiles became visible outside the window, rapidly growing in side in seconds. Pulling right, the jumper twisted away into a near ninety degree course change of almost one hundred G's that no Cylon or Colonial ship could come close to matching. The missiles proximity fuses registered that they didn't have a home in hell of catching up and detonated their nuclear warheads.

A blinding white flash detonated to port, Mitchell screwing his eyes shut against the glare unnecessarily as the Ancient 'window' somehow blocked the glare from damaging level of light. Even so, the explosion was near enough to jolt the Jumper even in a vacuum and as Cameron pulled back onto their escape course, part of him thought about blowing the Basestar away.

Obediently, a port compartment on the Puddle Jumpers exterior extended and a pair of brilliant yellow missiles streaked out.

The drone defense system was one of the technological marvels of the Ancients, the technology far beyond anything Earth had ever built. Looking almost organic, drones were capable of astounding agility and could punch through almost any shield in existence without even being slowed down. The reason for this was that drones had an ability to phase shift through solid matter. It was a power intensive process that took a lot of energy. With a full charge from a ZPM, the dedicated planetary defense launchers could shoot drones right through enemy capital ships and recover them like a boomerang.

Alas the Jumper didn't have a ZPM on board, so the best the ships computer could do was dump all the drone launcher power it had into two drones and fire them off, the drones crossing the space between the Jumper and Basestar before the startled Cylons could even think about trying to shoot at them (not that it would have done any good).

The tens of thousands of Cylons inside the huge craft were treated to the strange spectacle of a pair of glowing golden streaks crash through the interior bulkheads, fly down the cavernous red hanger bay, crash through the giant red eye that brooded over the section, take a ninety degree course change through an exposed conduit and crash into the side of the ships Tylium reactor.

Nothing but net.

A gigantic explosion illuminated the central core of the Basestar for a few milliseconds, before a white shockwave blasted out and vaporized most of the capital ship and disintegrated the rest in an orgy of nuclear fusion. The shockwave rocked the jumper even at its distance and after a few shocked seconds, Mitchell turned slowly to Carter.

"Opps".


	5. Chapter 5

**Battle Cruiser _Prometheus_.  
Inter-dimensional Rift  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

With a flash of lighting, BC-303 _Prometheus_, Earths first combat capable long range battleship materialized into a universe where none of the matter and energy that made up the great ship belonged.

"Bring the Railguns on line and load the missile tubes with quad pack defensive loadouts" Colonel Pendergast ordered. All humor was gone from the commander's voice, leaving the icy professionalism of the ships master heading into battle. "Load up the forward VLS cells with anti ship loadouts".

The bridge lighting fell to an eye forgiving blue as the alert klaxon started to echo through the ship, sending dozens of off duty personnel running to their duty stations or to man damage control parties. Staff pored into the bridge to man the ships secondary consoles which switched from training functions back to their primary military applications.

"Contact, many contacts at vector three two niner, system relative" Marks spoke up as the Goa'uld and Asgard based subspace sensors pulsed out from _Prometheus_ and bounced back nanoseconds later. "Unknown silhouettes, unknown energy signatures…wait, positive ID on Snake Null"

"Open a channel" Pendergast demanded, adjusting his headset. "Null this is Prometheus actual, come in".

Static hissed back at them. Pendergast turned his glower on Marks, who anticipated the question and shook his head.

"Communications are fine on this end sir, the Jumpers communications systems might be down, I don't have its IFF transponder either".

"Null, this is Prometheus actual. If you are receiving, squawk your transponder".

Nothing happened on the sensor displays. Pendergast narrowed his eyes. "Where is he?"

Marks brought the computer generated sensor readout up onto the main screen, panning until a sandstorm of unknown icons in orbit of a nearby planet came into view, with a single green icon in the middle of it. "He's lost his cloak".

"Given the amount of weapons fire I'm detecting in the area, it looks like SG1 stumbled into a battle" Marks said. "I'm detecting two distinct different groupings in the styles on the unknowns suggesting two races or factions and they appear to be exchanging fire".

"Isolate the Jumper" Pendergast ordered, ignoring the local politics for now and simply concerned with his own people. Obediently Marks switched the display to a much closer scale, showing the green icon of the Jumper being all but englobed by something like two hundred small sensor contacts, the last few dozen starting to fall into place ahead of the tiny ship, to block the Jumpers path towards the rift. Pendergast had flown bombers for a living before being transferred to Area-51, but he knew enough about fighter combat to read the 'moves' of the unknowns…and it was clear they were extremely wary of the Jumper in the way they were keeping their distance. Pendergast what the hell they were doing, then he saw two icons representing capital ships vectoring in towards the melee.

"They're playing for time, keeping the Jumper contained. He can't last much longer in there. Fighter status?"

"Ready for launch".

"Then let's move. Pilot, I want us five hundred kilometers in front of the closest edge of that fighter swarm in ten seconds"

"Yes Sir" The Major replied, tapping her console. _Prometheus's_ hyperdrive spun up and with only a brief hop into hyperspace, the ship jumped a half dozen light seconds. The stars outside the ships windows didn't change position, but the tiny dot that had been the planet was now a huge sphere that filled the window.

Which was the perfect backdrop for a dozen white flashes that flared in the night like miniature suns.

"Nuclear detonations" Marks reported grimly.

"The Jumper?" Pendergast demanded with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Intact" Marks declared as his board cleared up the white flash of the nuclear detonations. "But they were close, low kiloton yield, but they bracketed the Jumper with fifty of the damn things, closest one was about three kicks away.

Hissing through his clenched teeth, Pendergast glared at the screen. Charging in without a plan was a good way to get ten billion dollars of highly advanced US property blown to hell. But he didn't have much time to _think_ of one.

"What kind of active emissions are we getting from the hostiles?"

"EW suggests S, X and K band radar emissions, encrypted digital signals. No active subspace emissions".

"Good. Launch the fighters, have them take the low road and punch through to Null. Lock in the radar frequencies and stand by to initiate countermeasures. As soon as the fighters are clear, straight down the middle"

**F-302 Interceptor Snake Prime.  
Docked, Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

Inside the hanger bays on Prometheus, eight F-302's lit off their aerospike engines, the noise close to levels that would rupture the eardrums of a human without ear protection. The flight deck staff (almost exclusively USN sea-men transferred from carrier service) still on the deck, the so called 'crash crew' moved to standby positions, ready to act in damage control should one of the USAF flyboys (who of course were second rate pilots as far as they were concerned) crashed into a bulkhead on takeoff.

Said flyboys (and girls) would sooner be vaporized in an explosion on takeoff then live and give the naval deck crew the satisfaction of course.

The final checks were completed uneventfully, but fast enough to make an Indy car pit crew envious, the lead technician for each aircraft stopping next to the cockpit and holding up a fist full of pins trailing red ribbons. Each pin slotted into the missiles racked on each the F-302's pylons and with the pins in place, the missiles would be physically unable to arm and launch by accident. Holding up the four pins for each fighter was the final sign that each of the craft was hot and ready to rock; the technicians then removed the wheel chokes and retreated through the doors. The yellow warning strobes flashed and the hanger bay door slid open, revealing the flash of nuclear detonations in the far distance, backstopped by a planet half shrouded in darkness.

Slamming his visor down over his eyes, Lieutenant Colonel Robert "Vader" Aston returned the salute of the deck officer, who after a final look around, knelt down safely off to the side, pointed out into space and touched his hand to the floor.

Instantly, the fighter accelerated with a force that Aston felt, even with the inertial dampeners built into the spacecraft. Aston and the pilots under his command had had the inertial dampeners reprogrammed to allow some of the forces they were designed cancel out to be felt. The flight control computer would only let a maximum of 2G's leak, proportionally enough to let the pilots 'feel' the way their craft was behaving as they threw their ships around at speed. It got past the disconcerting lack of motion the fighter pilots felt when in a hectic dogfight, letting them feel the way their craft was behaving, but still kept them more then safe from the extreme forces that would otherwise turn them into a chunky paste on their canopies.

Flicking a switch to retract his undercarriage, he pulled his throttles back slightly, allowing the three craft launching behind him and four from the ships second hanger to catch up and slot into formation.

"Snakes, lead. Call it in" Aston ordered as he watched the gaggle of death black shapes form up around him.

"Eight, two lit and in the green"

"Seven, ready"

"Six, good to go"

"Five, ready to save shafts ass"

"Four, all systems go"

"Three, lets get some"

"Two, ready opp"

"Ok, go to secure communications and adopt EMON protocols…" he paused to glance at the mission clock, which was counting down the last few seconds…"mark".

The F-302's switched from their digital radios to secure line of site lasercoms. Useful only at short ranges, where each ship functioned as a node to bounce the signal to all the ships it could see in burst transmissions, it wasn't completely reliable…but the signals were almost undetectable.

As Aston led the 'Snake skinners' down and away from _Prometheus_, the Battle cruiser went into action, ascending over their heads towards the upper hemisphere of the sphere the Jumper was trapped in.

**Battle Cruiser _Prometheus_.  
Inter-dimensional Rift  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"This is the United States vessel Prometheus. You have engaged in hostile actions against one of our craft, which was on a mission of peaceful exploration and exploration. We have no quarrel with you and mean you no harm. But will we respond with deadly force if you do not cease your attacks against our craft immediately".

The posted rules of engagement for the _Prometheus_ as laid down by the Pentagon stated that all attempts at peaceful contact must be made before engaging unknown hostiles in combat. That wasn't to say that Pendergast was expected to sit on the bridge pleading with the bad guys to stop shooting while _Prometheus _rocked with direct hits. But his logs would show he gave fair warning before he started blasting away.

He gave them a full ten seconds.

Then five more, just to be safe.

"Anything?" he finally asked as _Prometheus_ powered towards the picket line of fighters, which had started to respond to the ships presence and turn away from the trapped Jumper.

"Unless you count them hitting us with X and K band targeting radars, nothing sir" Marks said dryly. The high frequency low wavelength beams were used exclusively for targeting purposes and painting _Prometheus_ with them was the modern equivalent of a knight slamming his visor down and drawing his sword.

"That may be the only response we get" Pendergast said, raising his eyebrow as the lower alien ship twisted malevolently, changing its course away from the centre of the sphere to the edge Prometheus was aiming for.

"Target capital Alpha just locked us up with its own fire control systems" Marks warned, suddenly starting to sound nervous at getting the attention of the ship that out massed them by over an order of magnitude.

"Return the favor" Pendergast ordered coolly.

"Targeting, aye" Marks said and two of the ships sixteen bow mounted (S)SPG-01 illumination radars went from standby to active, focusing their energy into pencil thin beams that struck the central core of the strange ship with megawatts of energy.

It responded by finishing its turn and opening fire.

"Missiles loose! Missiles loose!" the sensor technician sitting ahead and to the left of the ships helm shouted as a cluster of fast moving contacts blossomed onto the sensor display, arcing out from ship designated target Alpha and settling down onto identical tracks.

"Vampire Vampire, we have multiple incoming missiles!"

"Shields up, increase speed to full military thrust! Signal Snake Prime to commence his run. Have the-"

"Bridge Combat" a new voice broke in over the ships intercom, coming from the ships CIC buried deep in the central core. The Combat Information Centre was essentially a second command centre buried deep in the ship. If the Prometheus had been a naval ship in fact, it was more then likely that the ships Commanding Officer would have 'fought' the ship from the much safer location inside the ships hull, delegating the bridge to a navigational only role.

The ships designers however hadn't reckoned with flyboys like Ronson, Pendergast and Caldwell. Who had an obsessive need to fly the ship like it was a B-52, looking out into space and seeing with their own eyes what was going on. So the USAF had effectively turned the CIC into a data centre, controlling the ships sophisticated sensors, communications links, computers and weapons. While the staff on the bridge might give the orders to designate targets and fire the weapons, the staff in the CIC guided each missile to its target on an individual basis (when the weapons officer wasn't doing so himself), designated targets for the railgun batteries, worked the data links to the fighters and guided them like any AWACS controller. Someone from the CIC calling directly to the bridge in a combat situation meant something seriously wrong had happened.

"Combat, bridge, make it quick".

"Sir, JTIDS links are being pinged from an unknown external source".

"Someone is trying to get into our systems?"

"Yessir" the junior officer confirmed. "It's a fairly primitive attempt, just trying to brute force a handshake with our communications systems".

"Threat level?"

"Minimal so far. It doesn't look like they have the understanding of our systems to attempt a successful intrusion and even if they gain access, the physical hardware linked to external sources is highly restrictive, but I request permission to adopt non secure protocols until-"

"Granted, bridge out" Pendergast cut the technician off, a little more worried about the incoming fire then incoming communications for now.

"We have multiple missile seeker heads tracking us, bearing change zero" Marks warned as the missiles steadied onto direct courses.

"Pitch back ten degrees, come left five zero" Pendergast ordered the helm, to present the smallest radar target to the incoming swarm while unmasking the ships forward missile tubes. He then turned to the ships electronics warfare officer. "Commence blanket jamming on their radar frequencies".

_Prometheus _carried more electronics warfare equipment then a squadron of Wild Weasel suppression aircraft and a _Burke_ class Destroyer combined, all of it state of the art (and some it beyond state of the art). Powered by the immense nuclear forces being harnessed in the ships main reactor, multi frequency jamming pods mounted all over the ship started to flood the missile targeting radars with enough energy to turn their 'screens' of sensor contacts into masses of electronic noise.

"Enemy is attempting to shift frequencies" the EW officer warned.

"Stay with them" Pendergast ordered unnecessarily, knowing the officer was one of the best in the job at this type of warfare.

"Sir, the Snakes are approaching their Initial Point, requesting weapons free". Pendergast paused only a second, praying that he wasn't dragging Earth into an inter-dimensional war.

"Signal Prime, good hunting".

**F-302 Interceptor Snake Prime.  
Initial Point, inbound.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

Robert Aston watched his left multi function display with half an eye as he carefully steered his fighter into position. His 'second seat' partner, Major Jeffery Lawrence was doing the real work in providing course corrections as they approached their initial point, but he still kept half an eye on the displays to make sure they weren't being spiked.

The F-302 wasn't a true Stealth Fighter. It was true a lot of the stealth technology and structural design from the FA-22 series had been incorporated into the base design of the 302. Partially to take advantage of common technology when designing the space fighter, partially to hide a significant chunk of the F-302's costs inside the FA-22 budget.

Included were some of the advanced composites designed for the Raptor, as well as a skin of radar absorbent material. The underlying structure was carefully angled to refract radar (and more then a few alien sensor technologies) away from their transmitters and deny a sensor return as far as possible.

But the F-302 lacked the Raptors internal weapons bays for its primary weapons, meaning it didn't have all aspect stealth while carrying its external missiles. The rear thrusters were not completely stealthy either and even the most effectively 'protected' sections were not perfect. Stealth technology wasn't magic; it was simply a means of denying a sensor return to a transmitter. Given enough power at a close enough range, any transmitter would eventually get a return on even the stealthiest target.

This was why the F-302's were paralleling the curved sphere of fighters that had trapped the Jumper, presenting their dorsal surfaces towards the enemy ships as they slowly angled in closer. The dorsal wings and fuselage hid the very non stealthy missiles from the radar returns, letting the ship return a radar cross section so diffuse and hard to lock down that their opponents would have been inclined to dismiss it as nothing, had they seen it. They also had the bonus of keeping their closing rate with the alien fighters minimal as they dove down, if they were using pulse Doppler radars (and the EW emissions were strongly suggesting they _did_) then the Snakes would be showing relatively little aspect change, making it even more difficult for the aliens to pick them out. With the help of _Prometheus _turning their radar reception to chaos, these guys had a snowballs chance in hell of seeing the semi stealthy targets on their approach.

"Ok, let's do this". Aston said to the squadron as the rangefinder wound under 300 klicks. "Snakes, execute!"

The 8 F-302's pushed their aerospike thrust up to 80 percent, pulling up and aiming towards the 'south pole' of the fighter globe while simultaneously bringing up their own targeting radars. They had been tracking their prey via Data link from the _Prometheus _to help mask their presence while they got into position, but now they made their presence known in grand style.

The aliens brought up their own radars, sweeping them over the area the incoming energy was hammering them from. But try as they might they were having a devil of a time locking down the semi stealthy designs in the storm of jamming coming from _Prometheus_. The enemy capital ship clearly had no intention of letting the unknown contacts close in and scores of fighters broke off from the clearly damaged and no longer shooting Jumper to deal with the new targets. At the same time, far more craft broke off from the 'Northern Hemisphere' clearly aiming to follow the missile strikes in towards _Prometheus_, starting the collapse of the sphere.

Clearly Mitchell was still flying the Jumper and he was watching what was going on as he stopped jumping the craft around and spun, accelerating as fast as he could towards the rear as it collapsed into chaos. A double squadron blockade however started to spread out into his path to halt Mitchell's dash for freedom.

"Spartan, go and break up that defensive screen they're trying to throw in front of Shaft" Aston ordered, not liking the loss of firepower but guessing that he would like his old boss getting vaporized even less. 'Spartan', the call sign of one of the Snakes best pilots named for his addiction to a certain X-Box game double clicked his microphone in acknowledgement then broke up into a steep climb, the trio of other F-302's in his flight smoothly following in his wake as they ascended towards their distant targets, leaving Astons flight of four to face a gigantic capital ship and about fifty enemy fighters. It was absurdly unfair.

For the aliens anyway.

"Two, engage targets to port. I've got starboard. Three four, tuck it in close and get ready to punch through".

"Two"

"Three"

"Four".

'Four' didn't sound at all happy. Captain Phong 'Mushroom' Nguyen was carrying their strike package under his ships wings. The missiles were modified AIM-155 Advanced Air to Air Missiles, designed in the early 90's to replace the aging AIM-54 Phoenix missiles carried by the F-14 Tomcats. With the collapse of the USSR however, the Tomcat had been relegated to the bone yards and the AIM-155 program along with it. The AMRAAM had been determined to be more then adequate for the remaining F-18's and in truth it was, the F-302's all carried them.

But what the AMRAAM lacked was _space_. Fitting in thrusters, improved computers and so on had been a nightmare for the versions the 302's used and trying to modify it again to give it the punch needed to threaten Goa'uld Motherships had just proven impossible. So the technicians at Area-51 had dug up the blueprints for the 155's and manufactured their own variant, designed to put quite an expensive dent in a Goa'uld Mothership.

Which in turn meant Phong was carrying more firepower under his wings then the entire current US strategic deterrent. What made him _irritated_ however was that the heavy loadout slowed him down and made him roughly 25 less agile then the rest of his pack, never something to make a pilot happy.

"Enemy fighters are switching to high frequency radar" Lawrence warned as the threat board whined at him, a rotating targeting circle bouncing around the angular silhouettes of the enemy fighters as the 302's computers worked to chew down a firing solution. "Fifty klicks to target". He paused for five seconds. "Forty" he said as the counter continued to wind back, then the targeting circle locked onto one of the enemy fighters and stuck to it like glue, flashing read as a high pitched buzzing sounded in their ears. "We have a lock, target is locked!"

"Snake lead, fox four two!" Aston declared into his comm, stroking his trigger twice.

"Snake two, fox four two!" his wingman added.

A pair of missiles shot out from under the wings of each of the two lead ships, riding white exhausts which dissipated in seconds into the vacuum of space, the pilots carefully checking their eye protection was in place as the drive trails rapidly outdistanced them.

The AMRAAM's the F-302's were carrying were, again, not the AIM-120s one might expect. This series had been built for the failed X-301, designed with thrusters for space combat and shield modulating technology. The shield modulators had been rendered useless with the Ancient technology Anubius had introduced to Goa'uld shields, but the Naquadah warheads were still sound. The missiles standard chemical fragmentation warhead had been removed and replaced with a cylinder of equal size, internally divided by a two millimeter thick plastic disk. On one side of the Cylinder was a cone of weapons grade Naquadah the size of a child's thumb. When the warhead was triggered by impact or proximity fuse, said cone would be fired like a bullet, shattering the plastic safeguard cylinder and sending the bullet crashing into much larger but hollow cone made of pure potassium.

The detonation was expected to yield close to four megatons. Hardly what Phong was carrying around, but effective enough for their purpose.

The AMRAAM's activated their terminal radars as they reached four seconds from impact. With their nuclear grade warhead yields, a direct hit was not needed but as the missiles less sophisticated targeting systems went on line, they found themselves somewhat confounded by the desperate last ditch ECM the aliens threw into the mix in a belated effort as they detected the incoming. One of the warheads lost its lock and detonated based on extrapolated proximity to enemy craft, taking its companion missile with it before it could detonate but shattering, melting or outright vaporizing six raiders and charring another two seriously enough that they staggered away for the dubious safety of the nearest capital ship. The other two missiles held their locks and slammed into their chosen raiders. The collision would have probably been enough to rip the fighter in half even without the warheads, but they still detonated, wiping out two dozen of the craft in flashes of white light as their furious brethren closed into weapons range, all guns blazing.

Hundreds of blue tracer rounds reached out from the raiders, none touching the F-302's which impossibly against the laws of physics, danced into defensive sidesteps and returned fire with their twin cannons, shattering another half dozen of the enemy as they ripped through their disintegrating defensive screen without slowing down. The surprised Cylon ships took a split second to realize the F-302's weren't turning hard back to dogfight and belatedly twisted their own ships around to spray fire after the hard charging F-302's. But with their relative range opening rapidly, their cannons simply lacked the velocity to catch up to the elusive human ships.

"Leapfrog by pairs and break the formation" Aston ordered, the quartet of fighters spreading out so no nuclear detonation or burst of defensive fire could get all of them by luck.

As the quartet of fighters spun down towards the capital ship, orange bolts of color started to materialize from points along the wide arms, stabbing up towards the descending fighters.

"Commence weave, fifteen seconds to firing position" Phong called, taking charge of the flight as they came into the attack run. Aston threw his fighter into a series of irregular jinks and turns, keeping his forward momentum but bouncing around in a box that made it all but impossible to predict where he would be. All four ships switched their defensive jamming equipment to active, reducing the ability of radar to track them when combined with their reduced radar cross sections. But this close to the enemy and with _Prometheus_ increasing in distance all the time, the capital ship was able to burn through.

The missile launch warning alarm screeched in Astons helmet speakers, the tone of the alarm very specifically designed to cut across the noise of battle and into the focused concentration of a fighter pilot without fail. Snapping his head up, Aston saw a swarm of small and fast missiles rip into space from the opposing arms of the starfish shaped ship, turning right for the fighters.

He swore. Loudly.

"Phong, make your run, everyone else, make yourself a target!" Aston ordered, Lawrence catching on instantly to his meaning and shutting down the F-302's ECM, followed a second later by the other two escorts. The missiles under data link instructions were more then happy to give up trying to lock the shifting and distorted target that was Phong's F-302 and lock onto clear trio of ships closing, allowing Phong to pull under. Watching the cluster of missiles approach Aston prayed these aliens wouldn't be insane enough to detonate nukes this close to their own ship, then called out to his people. "Flight, break!"

The three ships pulled into near impossible turns and managed to dodge the salvo detonating all over them, but the enemy ship had anticipated the move this time, the ships defensive guns all fired _en mass_ at the evasive paths they had guessed the 302's might take.

Aston watched in horror and rage as one of his wingman vanished in a yellow white explosion as a hail of slugs managed to tag their F-302, tearing into the housing for the solid rocket engine and detonating the fuel stores. A jolt to his force feedback flight stick let Aston know he had taken a hit, probably to his right wing, but none of the damage lights flashed so he dismissed it as Phong's voiced crackled.

"Warheads gone".

"Extend, max burn" Aston ordered, the trio of ships lighting their aerospikes off to maximum and shooting right at the ship, tracer fire trying to track them, but the guns were unable to traverse fast enough as the 302's zipped right over the hull of the alien ship, then rolled over its side and triggered their solid rocket boosters, also at maximum.

For the first time the F-302's pushed their engines to the maximum thrust they could generate, shooting away from the Aliens at speeds rivaling a Goa'uld Death Glider for that short time, the acceleration was so far outside their previous performance that the massed batteries of railguns that had swiveled to engage the 302's as they popped down the other side were caught flat footed and didn't even fire a single shot.

It was about that time that the aliens noticed the eight missiles still closing on the other side, which had simply detached from Phong's fighter then started a two second countdown before igniting their engines, spreading apart and looking to hit the capital ship in eight different locations.

To their credit, they DID respond, defense turrets desperately firing as they trained towards the incoming tracks, often chewing parts of their hull as the weapons traversed.

One cluster even managed to tag a pair of the missiles heading for them, disintegrating them as the heavy slugs connected.

The remaining six missiles however impacted within half a second, each setting off its six hundred and fifty megaton warhead.

If Astons F-302 had been designed with a rear view mirror in his cockpit, he would have seen the huge, white (and strangely elegant) alien ship behind him turn black as it was silhouetted by a new star that snapped into existence behind it, before the outline melted away, struck by almost four _gigatons_ of explosive force. In space, there wasn't a blast wave of course (except for the vaporized remains of the ships that had been attacking the 302's), but Aston could almost feel the raw heat and shockwave from the nuclear fury behind them as the ships pulled up and ascended straight up the middle of the collapsing sphere.

**Battle Cruiser _Prometheus_.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"Missiles approaching at fifteen hundred meters per second, bearing steady, they may have us" Marks warned as the red 'V' symbols marched across his board followed by countless dots of enemy fighters. To his right, the Electronics warfare officer was playing a deadly game with the enemy seeker heads, trying to spoof them off course as they got closer and closer. The active jamming had sent roughly half the missiles wildly out of control, even causing one or two to detonate as they collided with what their sensors had said were hard contacts, leaving fifteen nukes streaking in towards the Battle Cruiser. The capital ship appeared to be reloading after firing its all out salvo and more and more fighters were being drawn away from Mitchell and the other alien ships to try and form some kind of blockade as _Prometheus_ charged in.

Which was the idea after all.

"Distance to missiles". Pendergast asked as the hazy cone of estimated acquisition by the enemy missiles seeker heads started to approach the _Prometheus_.

"Approaching one twenty. One fifteen. One ten. One oh five. One hundred".

"Fire"

Prometheus's bow erupted in flame as the ship (as Marks had so disturbingly put it) 'shot her wad', sixteen Mark II Evolved Sea Sparrow Missiles launching in rapid succession, the bow targeting radars on Prometheus focusing pencil thin beams at the inbound warheads. The enemy missiles AI programs detected the megawatts of power burning on their surfaces and started to jink and move, trying to mix their radar signatures and confuse the incoming weapons as much as possible, gaining the grudging admiration of Pendergast.

The targeting radars however were being themselves targeted by the ships Goa'uld and Asgard based sensors.

And they weren't fooled.

The ESSM salvo did quite well, scoring skin-skin kills against six dodging missiles and detonating another six with proximity fuse explosions. That left four inbound and heading towards the ships second last line of defense.

"Remaining missile tracks closing, they have target acquisition. Seventy Klicks and closing, time to impact twenty seconds".

"Forward railguns, clear to fire when they reach optimal range". Pendergast ordered.

Prometheus's forward railguns opened fire, bright yellow streaks stabbing out after the twisting missiles. Designed to tag Goa'uld Death Gliders, the relatively slothful missiles made deliciously easy targets for the CIC crew to practice on, shattering all four missiles before they came within ten kilometers, the ship brushing through their debris as she approached the blockade.

"Sir" Marks put in with a confused tone, "why did we bother to waste the ordinance? Our shields would have handled those easily".

Pendergast smiled slightly and it wasn't a friendly smile, but that of a hunter sizing his prey.

"Given the complete lack of any shield technology in these ships, I want to keep ours a surprise for as long as possible. From their perspective, we're clearly packing hugely powerful weapons and can maneuver like no capital ship they have ever seen. But charging towards their fighter screen and that capital ship plays into _their_ hands".

"Meaning they'll hoard all the resources they can to throw when we get into point blank range, leaving Colonel Mitchell's path clear" the Lieutenant finished.

"We'll make a Captain out of you yet Marks" Pendergast grinned.

"Just one problem Sir…what if they have weapons powerful enough to breach our shields?"

Pendergast simply starred at the man and Marks eyes blinked as he realized the stupidity of the question.

"Well, maybe a Naval Captain" Pendergast muttered under his breath.

**Puddle Jumper Snake Null.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"Break left!" Carter shouted, causing Mitchell to pull the shuddering jumper into a left turn. Another pack of Raiders shot past, their bursts of projectile fire whizzing by the window followed by the raiders themselves as they overshot. Mitchell nodded his thanks before pulling into a sluggish defensive climb, trying to think of a way to get them the hell out of this situation.

He didn't really blame these Cylons for being pissed off over the fact that he had just vaporized one of their big capital ships, even if they HAD shot first and tried to kill them. Prior to today, he never would have believed in the idea of a traffic jam in space, but now he made a mental note to talk to Colonel Aston about designing a training module along these lines if he Carter and Daniel survived to see him again. If not for his co-pilot monitoring the sensors and watching his back, the Jumper would have probably been shot out from under them five times by now.

He would have been more then happy to simply blast his way out and run for the rift, but the drone launcher system had drained all its ready power into the two drones that had taken out the Base Star. Carter had assured him that the system would recycle and build enough power to launch the remaining dozen or so drones within a few minutes, saying the same temporary loss had occurred when she and O'Neill had blasted a Ha'Tak with another Jumper last year. Unfortunately a series of nuke detonations close aboard had damaged to engine internals exposed by the drive pod, cutting acceleration by almost eighty percent as well as the power lines to the drone launchers, not to mention the communications gear, which he really could have used about now.

"So Daniel, glad you decided to stay around and go on one last great adventure before heading off to Atlantis?" Mitchell asked grandly, dodging another burst of cannon fire that would have taken off his starboard engines if he had been a second slower.

"Oh yes, it's everything I thought it would be" Daniel wryly replied, holding onto his seat for dear life as the craft continued to shudder from its engine damage.

Of course, if he had known at the time he said that that the _Daedalus_ was fighting for its life against an extremely advanced and adaptive Wraith computer virus that was trying its dandiest to kill everyone on board, he might have made a less glib answer.

"Carter" he said as yet another pack tried to attack from his rear, causing him to spin around and face them, scattering the quartet who clearly didn't want to risk any direct confrontation, which in turn led to four more craft breaking out of the shell straight for his six, which once again he spun around onto an intercept course towards..."Now would be a fine time".

"For what?" she said in a confused tone, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Oh the usual, come up with the brilliant last minute solution that saves the day and so on".

Now she _did_ look up, her expression hovering between exasperation and amusement at his jokes while they were in the fight of their lives.

"Cameron, there isn't anything I can do that I haven't already-"

The quartet of fighters charging towards them suddenly exploded in a flash of light that made the trio inside the Jumper squint, but once again the almost magical material the window was made of appeared to absorb the brilliant pulse of light's more blinding effects. Admiring the carnage for a half second, Mitchell and Daniel turned to look at Sam, who looked back and pointed a finger out the window.

"_That_ wasn't me".

"Snake Five to Snake Null, do you copy?"

The voice crackled over their vest mounted radios, causing Mitchell to grab for his as Carter grinned in delight and Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back into his seat. Striving to force as much nonchalance as he could into his voice, Mitchell triggered his radio, setting the power to maximum. Technically the handheld units were encrypted, but he wasn't going to take chances.

"Ah roger that Snake five, that you Spartan?"

"Affirm" the disembodied voice came back sounding apologetic. "We would have been here sooner but Six remembered he left the shower running".

"Pendergast would have had my ass if he found out" the junior officer added in an abashed voice.

"Very responsible" Mitchell said trying not to roll his eyes.

Or smile.

"But if you're about ready to get down to work…"

"Head straight out, we've got your back" the Major acknowledged.

The Cylons sphere had collapsed, the majority of their fighters either diving towards the lower Base Star to protect it from the 302's on their attack run (_a completely futile tail chase_ Mitchell thought) or ascending to try and stop the Prometheus (_a completely futile _anything Mitchell thought). Twenty or so still firmly bared a retreat out of the sphere in front of them but with a roar over the feedback speakers inside the cockpit, a quartet of F-302's powered up from underneath, swinging around to assume point positions. The nearest one with a tiny green figure dressed in Mark V MJOLNIR armor painted on the nose waggled its wings…then opened fire, joined a spilt second later by the remaining 302's.

AMRAAM's and Sidewinders accelerated downrange, scattering the raiders in all directions as the lethally smart weapons followed them. A dozen of the missiles caught their targets and blew the Raiders to hell, the remaining dozen clearly deciding discretion was the better part of valor, ran to get reinforcements. But at the rate the Jumper was now able to accelerate, they wouldn't have much of a chance to fetch any.

Especially as the Base Star they were running towards suddenly became luminescent and disintegrated completely under a barrage of nuclear weapons, the three surviving F-302's from the assault run accelerating at full burn in a long arc to rejoin the five ships on their way out of the combat zone.

**Battle Cruiser _Prometheus_.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 10, 2005.**

"We have incoming enemy fighters vector three one zero, system relative".

"All railguns stand by, continue reloading missile tubes with SRAM's and prepare for close combat".

Down at the bow of the ship, canisters of missiles were racked into place by hydraulic loading systems under the watchful eyes of technicians manning the firing rooms. The AGM-131 SRAM III's they were loading were based off a Strategic Air Command design back in 'the good old days' of the cold war, that no-one (with the possible exception of Captain Nguyen) on board missed. Nothing more then a high powered rocket mated with a nuclear warhead, the collapse of the USSR had once again relegated the technology to the scrapheap. They had been resurrected as an interim short ranged anti Mothership missile for the Prometheus until the new mark eight missiles and warheads designed for the Daedalus came into service.

Alas, _Prometheus_ hadn't been designed to carry the new technology, so the less sophisticated missiles had been kept in service. Unfortunately, the SRAM's were still relatively short ranged. Outside an atmosphere range against moving against moving targets fell dramatically, proportional to the distance targets could move to evade. And while it looked like these enemy capital ships didn't exactly have a high delta-V, closer was better for a sure hit.

Pendergast didn't mind in the slightest. He wanted to make a point to this race that had opened fire without a second's hesitation and completely ignored his pleas, then his warnings. It was the same point the US had made to the world after the first Gulf war, crushing the forth largest army in the world, that had been led well and equipped with modern military hardware, with fewer then 1000 casualties taken. And the same point the Asgard had made to the Goa'uld with a few select 'case studies' that had kept the Goa'uld controlled for thousands of years.

Don't fk with us

_Fear was the weapon needed today_, Pendergast decided as the enemy fighters started to enter visual range, the distant shape of their Mothership or command ship continuing to grow behind them. _Even more then the ships weapons systems_.

Fear was often frowned upon as a tool of the bad guy, but in truth it was neutral. It was how you _used_ it that defined its morality. The Goa'uld had used fear like a cudgel for centuries, breaking populations and terrifying them through acts of horror and barbarity.

Which had finally backfired when the fear of the Goa'uld had been outweighed by the hope of a better existence, free from that fear of being killed, taken as a host or just having your planet wiped out from orbit on a whim of some badly dressed snake with delusions of Godhood.

Today, Pendergast would teach this race fear of a different kind, letting their own minds fill in the blanks as they speculated on a future military encounter between the two powers which, if Earth was lucky, would keep these aliens so worried and frightened that thoughts of going looking through the rift would become damn near taboo.

Not that Earth had the resources or collective will to go to war with yet another alien species…

"Enemy fighters entering optimal range" Marks noted, double checking the shield systems.

"Open fire, all batteries all targets" Pendergast said, throwing the dice as he committed his ship to battle.

_Prometheus's_ railgun batteries opened fire, the deck throbbing slightly under the recoil as the magnetic rails accelerated 12.7 mm rounds to close to two thousand meters per second. Built with cores of semi refined Naquadah encased in Trinium, the rounds were relatively tiny but one well placed shot from the railguns could blow through a Death Glider and they could empty thousands of rounds per minute.

A half dozen raiders died in the first second as the formations jinked furiously. Ten of them opened small doors and shot pairs of missiles before breaking off with the rest of their companions. The railguns switched targets and fired, knocking a dozen of the warheads down before the rest detonated…on the ships Asgard designed shields.

The shields refracted and reflected the bulk of the explosion so the crew inside were not blinded looking out when the detonation took place. But to outsider observers, it surely looked like the Daedalus had just been vaporized at the heart of a nuclear fireball. The Cylons looked on in relief. The Colonials with grief, that this new race wasn't invulnerable after all and had just vanished as fast as they had appeared.

Then _Prometheus's _re-appeared all guns blazing as the shields cleared back to a shimmering gold. Shear terror was returned into the equation for the Cylon's and disbelief combined with jubilation spread through the Colonials fighting their own battle closer to the planet. The Battle Cruiser raked the startled raiders with her railguns, shattering another six as they closed in firing blue bolts of cannon fire that impotently splattering over the shields. A pair of Raiders came in too quickly spraying fire towards one of the ships weapons mounts and nicked the shields around the ships command tower, causing them to cartwheel into the grid and explode. Unfazed, the pair of cannons in the battery swung and laid down sustained fire along _Prometheus's _port side.

"Approaching the target" Marks commented, resisting the urge to wipe his hands on his flight suit. In amongst the sound of the railguns firing and weapons fire striking the ships defensive shields, the sound of the ships engines increasing in thrust could be heard as the helm officer brought the ship up to attack speed.

"Stand by on forward weapons" Pendergast ordered as the huge enemy ship started to pivot in place. _Would they run or fight_ he wondered.

They fought.

Apparently having finished reloading their tubes, the alien ship spat out a full salvo of missiles from dozens of launchers that lined the arms of their ship, warheads rocketing down towards _Prometheus_. No doubt armed with high yield nuclear warheads, they probably thought with _Prometheus_ much closer they could score a full strike this time.

_They wished_ he thought with a smile as he brought the next trick from his bag. It wouldn't work against a ship with subspace sensors, but as they didn't appear to have them…

"Helm, on my mark, engage the Hyperdrive on minimum power for five seconds".

"Sir" she acknowledged, though looking a little unsure about the order. Glancing at the tactical display, he mentally traced the time it would take for them to close compared to the time it would take the Hyperdrive to activate…"execute!"

A blue rip in space formed in front of the Daedalus as the glow from the missiles drive trails started to materialize, but too late as Daedalus jumped out of real space …and after just enough time for the Cylons and Colonials to wonder what the _hell_ had just happened, she crashed back into real space ten kilometers in front of the enemy ship.

Subspace was another dimension in which FTL travel was possible relative to realspace…but it didn't mean you _had_ to go faster then light…

"Time on target!" Pendergast ordered smirking at the huge target sitting framed by the bridge window as his ship hurtled towards it.

"Missiles away" Marks acknowledged, the six high acceleration missiles exploding into space. The warheads crossed the distance between the two ships rapidly but before they could start their terminal dives, a white light raced down the length of the ship almost appearing to turn it translucent, before an orange flash expanded…and when it faded, the ship was gone. The SRAM missiles automatically self destructed once they lost their lock, their warheads not initiating but shattering into debris with the missile. All around, the ragged formations of alien fighters were vanishing in flashes of light, the two remaining capital ships pausing only to load of some of their more damaged flights before they too vanished, abandoning the system to the Colonial Fleet and the _Prometheus_.

"Recall the snakes" Pendergast sighed, sitting back in his chair with relief that the battle was over. "Keep the shields up for now but stand down from general quarters. Get CIC to get me a report of the attempted computer intrusion and have damage control get me a report as soon as possible. Bring us around towards the Snakes, standard thrust. And send a tight beam message at the rift, for the station to retransmit to Earth as follows…"


	6. Chapter 6

Ok. Sorry about how long it took to get this out, but I really wanted to wait for Resurrection Ship before posting this, to see Battlestars in combat. Of course damn More left us another cliffhanger, so I flipped a coin and it came up 'screw it, post it now'.

This chapter is just the same battle from last chapter, just from the other side. I decided to split it in half to keep each chapter somewhat sane in size and not bore everyone to death. But I think it works.

The next chapter should be out much quicker.

Enjoy.

Chapter 6.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"Enemy Raiders forming into strike groups on inbound vector" Lieutenant Gaeta called across the bustling command centre. The steams of red icons pouring from the Base Stars rallied and clustered into tight formations that marched across his screen. Most registering as nuke carriers, all heading straight for _Galactica_.

"Overlay effective firing ranges on the tactical display" Adama ordered, not looking up from the main tactical plot as his mind ran through the numbers, not liking what he was seeing. "Has the Presidents ship launched yet?"

"Hanger reports Raptor three is starting its launch cycle, they'll be away in ten seconds" Dualla reported as she checked the hanger deck status screen.

"After he drops off the President and Vice President, have him stay with Colonial One. If the Cylons so much as looks at that ship, have him start popping decoys everywhere"

"Aye sir" she nodded, then adjusted her headset to relay the orders as Adama turned to Tigh standing next to the helm consoles.

"How long until we jump?"

"Fifteen minutes" the Colonel answered with a sour look on his face, clearly not happy with the idea of sitting within spitting distance of five Base Stars for ithat/i long.

"Alert fighter scramble complete" Gaeta called as the last of the green icons formed up into a loose double squadron around their home. Setting his hands onto the gleaming white plotting table, Adama mentally calculated acceleration rates, distances and weapons ranges as an idea slowly took shape in his mind.

"Range to the raiders?"

"Range is twenty five thousand and closing on the lead group. Additional groups are at twenty eight and twenty nine thousand" the sensor officer responded as he tracked the incoming enemy groups. "The base ships however are maintaining a constant distance from us".

Tigh crossed his arms and glared at the screens.

"So does that mean they're happy to just send their raiders to do their work or that they're getting ready to destroy us from way out there?"

Adama suppressed a smile at his XO. The man was probably taking the Cylons presence as a personal insult.

But the man had a point. Looking around the plotting table, he found a black marker and waved Tigh over, the smile in his mind dying as the only option to get out of this situation became clear.

"They're playing at siege tactics" Adama said as his XO arrived, uncapping the pen and drawing a long curve against the side of the table to represent the planet. "We're here" he commented, drawing a rough rectangle above the middle of the curve, then sprinkled a group of dots under her to represent civilian ships, "blockaded by three Cylon groups here" he marked two X's to the extreme left and right, "and here" he finished, drawing three directly above _Galactica_ that set the scene. "They'll have the Raiders swamp us with ordinance to use up ours, overheat out weapons, kill our fighters, but mostly their job will be to keep us pined in place as a shield protecting the civilian ships".

Adama's voice remained level, but his expression started to turn bleak.

"The Base Stars will then close from all sides, firing everything they have and wipe us out. Our ionly/i chance is to break out at their weakest point, here" he said as he drew a circle around the fleet and, then an arrow to point at the extreme left Base Star.

"But we can't be in two locations at once" Tigh protested, making sure to keep his voice low. "We have to knock out that Base Star" he pointed out, tapping the X on the left, "or the fleet will be nothing but target practice as it runs past. But we can't cover the back door and protect the fleet at the same time. Not against that many Raiders and Base Stars"

"That's where the Vipers come in" Adama agreed, adjusting his glasses slightly before sketching in a triangle behind the representation of the _Galactica_. "They'll form a screen behind us and hold the line until all fleet ships are away. Then they'll make a combat landing and we jump out".

_Combat landing and jump out? Has the old man finally lost it_ Tigh asked himself as he looked at the hastily scribbled plan on the plotting table. The Vipers, assuming they even isurvived/i more then sixty seconds against the combined Raiders of four Base Stars, would be unable to disengage and return to the _Galactica_ for any landing, combat or otherwise. If _Galactica_ tried to cover the Vipers, the Cylons would probably send a barrage of nukes at close range and overwhelm _Galactica's_ ability to deal with them, leaving the civilian ships easy pickings down the line.

The only logical course of action would be to abandon the Vipers as soon as the last of the fleet was away in order to preserve the _Galactica_…assuming there were any Vipers left, an assumption he considered somewhat unlikely. Tigh opened his mouth to say as much…then shut it as he noticed a look in the Commanders eyes.

He had known William Adama for years of course. The two of them had been through hell and back starting from Adama saving his ass in a bar fight, through to him getting him reinstated into the Colonial Fleet and then the chaos of the current war.

Well more accurately, Tigh had consistently dragged _them_ into hell and Adama had always been there to pull them back out. They could read each other like open books, most of the time.

Today was no different.

The Commander knew exactly what he was doing. He was sending his son and two dozen selfless men and women to their deaths.

Because it was the only way to win an unwinnable situation.

"Yes sir" Tigh simply said through a suddenly tight throat. He couldn't think of anything to say…

So he didn't try, switching tacks rapidly.

"Well, it's about time for me to poll the batteries" the Colonel stated, turning away from his CO without even waiting for an acknowledgement.

"Very good'" Adama said picking up a handset as Tigh stepped away from the main command station.

Adama would have given anything to swap places with him at this point in time.

As the ships CAG, Captain Apollo deserved to hear these orders from his commanding officer.

"Petty Officer, put me through to the CAG".

Dualla nodded and started to work her console as Adama tried to understand what twisted pantheon of Gods would have him order his only son on a suicide mission.

**Mark VII Viper # 26  
633Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"CAG this is Galactica Actual, secure".

Apollo glanced down at his communications board to double check that the wireless system was secure and toggled his transmitter.

"Galactica Actual, this is the CAG, secure". Apollo replied while he kept an eye on the formation of Vipers cruising behind the massive starship and finished checks on his own weapons systems.

"Apollo, I'm moving _Galactica_ to engage the Base Star designated Alpha. The fleet will be tucked in right behind, I'm going to kill it, then it slingshot around the planet and out into space. Hopefully, we'll buy enough time to charge the jump drives."

"Roger that_ Galactica_. We'll be in position to screen in twenty-"

"Lee" Adama cut in, bringing Apollo up short. His father was nothing if not military, calling him by his name, even on a secure channel…

"We can deal with the first Base Star, but we need the fighters to hold the back door shut for as long as possible. If these Raider packs get a clear shot at the fleet…"

Then it clicked.

Apollo didn't have the natural talent of Starbuck, who could fly fighters like they were wired directly into her body.

Nor did he have the shear presence of his father.

But he was a good solider and an accomplished tactician.

He understood exactly what his father was ordering him to do.

"Acknowledged" Apollo said simply. "We won't let anything by us".

"I know you won't" his father replied, then paused. They each knew what the other wanted to say, but it had no place in a combat zone with Raiders steadily closing in.

"I'll see you on the flip side" Lee finished it for both of them, the underlying meaning of the standard fighter pilots farewell clear to both of them. Switching frequencies on the wireless back to squadron, he put all thoughts out of his mind bar survival.

"All Vipers, go max thrust and come to course four one one, carom two niner. First squadron, give me a line three hundred long centered on me. Starbuck you'll take the second squadron behind us and catch anything we miss. Target enemy ordinance first, raiders second, we're holding the line right here. Nothing gets past".

_"Hold the line_?" Starbuck instantly blasted in his ears. Biting his tongue only because Starbuck had protested over a private wireless link and wasn't disputing orders in public, Apollo switched to the command frequency he shared with her.

"Those are the orders Lieutenant" he replied, stressing her rank in what he knew was a vain hope that she would shut up and get back to work.

"We have two squadrons, half of which are rookies, we can't hold against three Base Stars worth of Raiders!"

"Starbuck…"

"Either Tigh is half drunk-"

"Starbuck…"

"Or Boomer did a hell of a number on your father's brain-"

"Kara" Lee said switching tacks and shutting her up long enough to get a word in. "In case you haven't noticed, the fleet is running towards Base Star Alpha, _Galactica_ has to kill it, but she can't watch the back door at the same time. Those raiders are packing nukes, if we can't hold them, if they get a clear shot at the fleet-"

"-They're fraked. Got it" Starbuck said with a slightly embarrassed tone in her voice as she glimpsed the big picture. Calming himself down, he realized he had been within a few seconds of chewing her out on the edge of a battle. A bad sign, he forced himself to calm down and push everything out of his mind but the impending firefight as he switched frequencies again.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

On board the iGalactica/i, Lieutenant Gaeta frowned at his displays. They differed from those displayed at workstations around the bridge and to the commanders at the plotting table. Those displays were programmed to focus on the immediate combat situation, displaying only targets that were an active participant in any combat situation.

The weakness with this system however was that it all depended on the officer managing it to keep an eye on the wider picture. Gaeta's job was to make sure no-one got tunnel vision, focusing on the immediate threat so much that they ignored others forming further away. To that end, his station was equipped with a half dozen other screens which showed unaltered 3D short medium and long range active and passive readouts, along with a list of every single sensor contact in the area. His only job was to bring to the attention of Commander Adama anything that was relevant, watch everything else and ignore the incidentals.

The reason for his frown was a steady signal of EM energy that had been teasing the ships passive DRADIS receivers almost since they arrived. Triangulation by the paired receivers at the front and rear of the ship had finally crunched down the numbers, the computer guessing the source was 'relatively' close, anything between ten and sixty light seconds away from their current location. To be receiving a signal at this strength from a distance that long meant it clearly had to be artificial if it wasn't a stellar body. And even then, it was clearly seriously powered. But with the Vipers starting to approach outer firing range on the raiders, now wasn't the time to investigate. He transferred the sensor contact to one of his secondary screens and then returned his attention to the more important contacts.

Like the hundreds of nukes heading this way inside enemy fighters…

**Mark VII Viper # 263  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"All fighters, break by pairs. Keep the formation loose, I don't want any nukes to take out half a squadron". Obediently, the drive flairs of the Vipers broke away from his own, except for Kat who stayed glued to his wing as if she had been driving Vipers her entire life.

"Missile launch, missile launch!" an excited shout came from the units sensor specialist, but the warning was hardly necessary as Apollo's own DRADIS display updated tracks for over a hundred missiles heading towards the fleet. Grimly setting his face, Apollo opened the throttles and steadied his aim point on the closest enemy missile.

"iGalactica/i, Apollo. Multiple missile tracks, dead ahead and level. Range eighty, weapons free. All Vipers, engage at will!" Suiting action to words, Apollo waited a half second as his computer chewed on the firing solution, then hit the trigger.

A hammering noise echoed though the cockpit of Apollo's fighter as the Vipers paired cannon opened fire. The stream of shells was dead on, detonating a pair of missiles but he barely registered the explosion as he switched targets and fired again. In his peripheral vision, another dozen streams of fire poured into space, the white flashes of successful intercepts illuminating space as each fighter worked to clear its assigned firing lane of incoming warheads. Another hail of slugs shredded two missiles as they raced at him, then Apollo pulled into a roll to dodge the last missiles near him as they flashed past, then reversed his roll and got ready to dive into the swarm of incoming targets only thirty seconds away.

"Starbuck, plug the leakers. Everyone else, straight down the middle. Break up the enemy formation and-"

"Lead, Hotdog, the enemy formation is turning away"

"_What?_" Apollo demanded, switching his DRADIS back to long range. Hotdog was right, the huge wave of Raiders the Vipers had been closing on was breaking, squadron after squadron turning away at maximum power and heading back to their base stars, leaving only a few squadrons still burning for the Vipers. Apollo stared at the display.

"What in the hell…"

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"…are they doing?" Tigh demanded as the iGalactica/i's tactical displays showed the Cylons strike force breaking up. Starbucks squadron was killing the last of the incoming missile tracks as Apollo reformed his unit. But the incoming fighter counts had dropped to only thirty five according to the sensors…and the question on everyone's lips was why…

"It makes no sense" Adama commented, staring at the displays intently. "Why wouldn't they engage our fighter screen in full force?"

Tigh thought it over. The logical answer was that they were going to tangle up iGalactica/i's fighters with a small portion of their own, then re-engage with the rest from another vector. But the Cylons didn't have the time for such games so he dismissed that possibility. More worrying was the possibility that the still incoming Raiders were bobby trapped somehow and were going to take out the Vipers in suicide runs. Tigh opened his mouth to say as much, but Gaeta broke in first.

"Sir, DRADIS reports a new sensor contact that the Cylon raiders are pursuing, repeat, Cylon raiders appear to be disengaging and pursuing an unknown sensor contact".

"Put it up right now" Adama ordered as a buzz brought out in the CIC. The display tracking the breakup of the Cylon strike force shifted slightly and zoomed in on a new target flashing yellow for unknown that was rocketing way at incredible speed from the swarm of threat icons.

"What the _hell_ is that?" Tigh demanded.

**Mark VII Viper # 263  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"Lead, we've picked up a tail".

"Copy Kat. Break Port-Starboard, now"

The two Vipers twisted and banked, Apollo to port and Kat to starboard, rocketing around in a high velocity turn. The Cylon raider chasing them hesitated for a microsecond before deciding to turn and follow Kat, spitting blue bolts of cannon fire after the venerable Mark II Viper.

Big mistake.

Apollo fired his RCS thrusters and flipped his Mark VII around end for end, bringing his guns to bear on the Raider at point blank range. Kat reversed her turn, throwing the Raider into a clear shot and one messy explosion later their part of the battle was clear again.

"Thanks lead" Kat said in relief. Apollo swung back onto her wing, giving her fighter a brief look. Luckily neither of them had taken hits in the last exchange and Kat was holding together remarkably well.

He remembered when he had first met her; during Starbucks…colorful…attempts to train new pilots to replace the losses iGalactica/i had suffered. On her first flight, she landed a Viper horribly; damaging it to the point that Apollo had feared Chief Tyrol was going to throw her out the nearest airlock in revenge.

But fighter combat was a lethally evolutionary process. The strong survived, the weak did not. Kat survived mission after mission, even a drawn out gun battle with a Centurion boarding party, not something a pilot would exactly be expecting when they signed up. She had turned into a seasoned officer and as much as Apollo loved having a wingman who could look after herself (and follow orders, a novelty after flying missions with Lieutenant Trace), he was going to move her up to a flight leader position.

Or hell, perhaps even a squadron command if the second batch of pilots starting flight school eventually got into Vipers.

All assuming they survived the battle of course.

"Starbuck, you finished yet?"

"Hang on, I'm – stay STILL you fraken stupid thing" Kara snarled back at her commanding officer, clearly changing topics in the middle of the sentence as a Cylon Raider desperately tried to shake Starbuck from its six. It failed of course, _nothing_ could shake Starbuck in a Mark VII Viper and two seconds later, the Raider was a rapidly expanding fireball, accounting for the last of the Raiders in the immediate area. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Can you see this unknown contact on your screens?" he asked as the Vipers reformed into a loose double squadron. He didn't hold much hope that Starbuck would see the contact, but she was closest to the Raiders chasing it. A few seconds later, she answered in the negative and Apollo sighed. It wasn't surprising; Vipers had been designed to work in unison with Raptors, which were equipped with much more advanced and powerful sensors. And without a Raptor in the area, the Vipers were flying half blind.

Apollo didn't like flying half blind when outnumbered probably ten to one.

"Ok, everyone pull back two hundred, I don't want the screen to get too far from iGalactica/i. Watch the wreckage as you go", Apollo cautioned his pilots as they flipped their fighters around and goosed the thrusters, falling back towards iGalactica/i. Apollo switched his wireless over.

"_Galactica_, Apollo, first fighter wave neutralized, pulling back to match your-"

And behind them, the Cylon Base Star shadowing iGalactica/i's orbital plane detonated in a massive explosion.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

A Stunned silence prevailed through the _Galactica's_ CIC.

Predictably, Tigh broke it.

"Would someone like to tell me what just happened?" the Colonel asked in a deceptively mild voice, directed at the ring of technicians around the ships command centre. They collectively wilted under his glare and hurried back to work.

"Preliminary indications are that the unknown contact fired some kind of weapon that completely destroyed the Base Star" Gaeta said, confirming what the senior officers had already guessed. "The Raiders appear to be attempting to reform and englobe the unknown target".

"Do you have a profile on the target yet?"

"Yes sir" Gaeta acknowledged up as he finished working up a basic sensor model for the unknown contact. On the screen above Adama and Tigh, a wire frame image of a cylindrical ship with two extended nacelles appeared, rotating slowly.

"That's it?"

"Yes Sir" Gaeta apologized, cringing as if expecting Tigh to shoot him. "The DRADIS data is incomplete, but this ship just…appeared, from nowhere".

"Appeared" Adama echoed, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"It's the best word I have Sir" the Lieutenant apologized and a second screen was replaced by a crazy tangle of lines and icons. "These are the tracks of the Cylon force as they launch their missiles. The data isn't clear, but it looks like one of the Cylon missiles impacted something here" a new line blinked as one of the missile tracks vanished towards the tail of the Cylon strike force" and after the impact, this new ship appeared.

"It jumped into the _middle of the engagement_"

"That's just it sir" Gaeta said in a helpless tone. "There wasn't any sign of a jump…it just…appeared".

"So. We have an unknown ship that appears out of nowhere, moves faster then missiles and blows up Base Stars for kicks" Adama summarized, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice, pretending not to hear Tigh mutter a comment about getting them in the stores in time for the next Colonial Day.

"Time until engagement range with Alpha?"

"Forty five seconds"

"Have the Vipers keep their screen in place, but keep them close. I don't want them to engage unless the Cylons make a push against the fleet. This new ship appears to have their interest, we can get the hell out of here while they engage it".

"We're not going to help it?" Tigh asked in surprise. Adama shook his head.

"We'd just be trapping ourselves here with them" the Commander grimaced, completely unhappy with running away from the battle, but knowing he didn't have a choice.

"Raiders! Launching in large numbers, dead ahead" Gaeta warned.

"And here they come" Adama muttered. "Weapons, prepare to engage".

**Cylon Base Star designated Alpha.  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

Squadron after squadron of raiders streaked out of the vast hanger bay lining the interior of the Base Star, forming up into a swarm that circled the huge ship, waiting for the right moment in time to attack the closing Battlestar. Off to their left, the constant flashes of nuclear detonations lit up the sky as more Raiders attempted to knock down the strange ship that had obliterated one of their Base Stars.

The Cylons carefully planed attack against the civilian ships with iGalactica/i had been thrown into complete chaos by this ship that had come out of nowhere. The bulk of the raiders were containing it in an escape-proof globe of ships, trying to carefully place nuclear missiles close enough to destroy or disable the strange ship, but so far having little success, the impossible maneuverability of this strange ship vexing the units trying to take it out.

Then the engagement changed. Again. With a huge surge of energy neither side would detect for some time thanks to the light speed barrier, a new player interjected itself into the battle, one that would forever change the destinies of two universes.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

_Galactica_ rocked to starboard as a high explosive warhead detonated on her bow armor, not quite breaching it, but leaving a hell of a scorch mark that couldn't easily be repaired in the field. In the ships command centre, Colonel Tigh picked himself up off the floor, noting in exasperation that Adama hadn't even moved a centimeter from his position through the concussion, he was still standing tall and straight with a phone to the side of his head watching the engagement as _Galactica_ drove at the Base Star. Shaking his head to clear the ringing, Tigh staggered over to the damage control board.

"Well?" Tigh asked to the impossibly young petty officer standing there.

"Frontal armor took a heck of a hit, no penetration" the nomcom said, holding a headset to his head with one hand while working the display with another. "But the concussion knocked out one of the forward nuke launchers" she finished, tapping a pair of flashing yellow LED's.

"Well its not like we have any of those lying around" Tigh groused, rubbing his head and half wondering if the fuzziness was because due to the drink he had taken before coming on duty or the impact with the deck.

_Probably both_, he decided.

"Weapons reports total ammunition expenditure on portside railgun positions six and nine" one of the technicians reported as Tigh turned back to the command pit. The Colonel frowned in confusion as he stared at the technician.

"How the hell is that possible? They couldn't possibly have run out of ammo already?"

"Sir, they report that hit knocked the autoloading systems out of alignment in their sector".

"Well please tell positions six and nine to use the hands and legs the Gods gave them and get back to work! I don't give a frak, if they have to load the damn things by hand from the magazines, just get their weapons shooting!"

"Sir!" the technician gulped and keyed up the inter-ship comm system.

It always amused Tigh what a little shouting and cursing could do. The Lieutenant screamed over the inter-ship link to the damage control officer, who in turn screamed at the weapons officer for that sector, who in turn got on the horn and yelled at the gunnery commanders.

Within fifteen seconds, the screaming was being done at the Deckhand level. Within sixty seconds, the railguns would be active again, albeit at a reduced rate of fire.

Walking back to the plot, Tigh opened his mouth to report on the damage, but stopped as Adama held up a hand, then stabbed at the computer readout of the Base Star.

"There! It's starting to pull back. Weapons, keep up your fire. Helm, give it all you've got, but roll us to present the ventral surface as we pass". The Commander turned to the Colonel.

"We might just make it out of here".

Another hit rocked the Battlestar, causing the main lights to flicker for a half second this time.

"Assuming they don't finish us first" Tigh muttered, staring at the real-time camera footage of the Base Star. The once gleaming white ship was now pitted and scared, slashes in its hull showing where the heavy duty slugs of the iGalactica/i's main weapons had punched through starting internal fires, or shattered a hundred meters off one of the stately white arms on the ship.

However despite the appearance of taking a hell of a beating, the Base Star wasn't out of the fight yet. Rolling to present less damaged arcs, the Raiders scattered away from _Galactica_, looping around back towards their Mothership as the alarms at Gaeta's station buzzed.

"Weapons lock, Base Ship is firing!"

A quartet of flashes rippled over the surface of the Base Star, followed seconds later by another four. Eight black dots circled in flame and tracing thick white exhaust ripped from their tubes and punched across the steadily closing gap between the two ships. A second alarm started to sound on the Lieutenants station, sending Tigh's blood cold.

"Radiological alarm! Nukes incoming"

Without having to be told, dozens of railgun batteries turned and fired, sending yellow bolts ripping towards the missiles, eating up ammo but more worried about immediate survival then longer time concerns.

Besides, the backdrop for their targets was the Base Star after all. None of their shots were likely to be wasted.

Explosions started to blossom on the display, but far too soon and too many for the missiles.

"Son of a, they're using raiders to shield the missiles" Gaeta said in disbelief. Tigh frowned and the earlier pattern of Raider movement suddenly became clear. They were using their fighters as a disposable shield, letting them take the impacts to protect the missiles as they came in close. In response as _Galactica_ turned to present the ventral surface, more and more railguns joined in, pouring dozens of streams straight up towards a single point, constant explosions of light and energy closing rapidly on the incoming. Raiders dropped by the score until finally the last of the 'human shields' disintegrated and the missiles were exposed. With half the _Galactica's_ weapons blasting at them as they approached danger-close range, they lasted approximately one second before thousands of explosive projectiles detonated them with enough energy to overload the ships sensor systems.

A half cheer (more like a muted sigh of relief) wound across the Bridge for a half second before a shout of alarm from Gaeta cut through the noise.

"DRAIDS is still tracking FOUR missiles on a new vector, they're heading for the fleet!"

Adama and Tigh's heads both snapped around at whiplash speed to stare at the tactical display. Four of the missiles had just been reacquired, having used the explosion of the first missiles to hide themselves from detection. Diving under iGalactica/i's bow by a safe distance, they accelerated straight for the civilian fleet in an erratic corkscrew.

"Missiles have locked target…it's _Colonial One_" Gaeta shouted, the fast moving nuke icons on the DRADIS display now connected by red lines to the transponder tag simply designated COL-1.

**Galactica Raptor 3  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"Gods, four missiles slipped past, their moving right for the fleet!"

The alarm in the Lieutenant Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson's voice chilled Lieutenant Karl "Helo" Agathon, even more then the four red icons on the ships DRADIS display heading right for them. Racetrack was one of those rock solid soldiers who, in combat, even when the best laid plans fell completely apart kept her cool.

So it said something for their current situation that she was a little upset.

"Do we know which ship they're-"

"Colonial One, has to be, the missiles track takes them right at her, impact in twenty five".

"Get ready on the Decoys" Helo ordered, swinging the Raptors nose up and back towards iGalactica/i and the incoming. "We'll have to try to decoy the missiles".

"From head on? At this range?" Racetrack sounded more then a little skeptical. "At the speed those missiles are going, there is no way the decoys will be able to get in close enough to divert the -"

"Well we have to do isomething/i, I'm not going to sit here and watch them fraken die!"

Racetrack remained silent, holding her peace for now. Helo bit back a profanity, then stopped for roughly half a second as Racetracks words sunk into his brain, triggering a memory of gun camera footage he had seen yesterday of iGalactica/i's attack on a Cylon tyliam refinery. He remembered how the flack suppression unit's air to ground missiles had gone crazy, chasing after phantom targets thanks to the massive ECM from the targets defenses. The drones carried by his ship worked on the same technology, but lacked the power to draw off the missiles, except at close range. They were defensive countermeasures, nothing more or less.

The jamers built into his ship on the other hand…

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

An icy ball of dread settled into Adama's stomach.

If on one hand he gave the order for iGalactica/i's railguns to open fire and try to shoot down the rapidly moving missiles on a poor deflection angle, there was an excellent chance weapons would miss and impact on Colonial one…and probably other civilian ships. The civilian fleet could no more withstand strikes from iGalactica/i's heavy railguns then the human body could hold off military firearms. Putting nuke warheads on them was frankly complete overkill.

On the other hand, if he did nothing, Colonial one and anything near it was dead anyway.

"Weapons, target the enemy missiles and-

"Wait!" Tigh suddenly broke in, Adama stared at him in amazement. They didn't have time to debate the issues-

"Missiles radically changing course" Gaeta called out, tracking the four targets as they smoothly arced away from their course to head away from the fleet.

"What the hell are they doing?" Tigh asked in complete bafflement. Were the missiles actually going to target iGalactica/i after all?

"It's Helo" Adama breathed, stabbing his finger at a green icon pulling away from the fleet and steadily accelerating, the four red icons closing on it as he pushed his Raptor for all it was worth.

"Thank the Gods for him" Tigh responded. "So what's he doing"

Adama looked at Tigh. "Trying to be Starbuck is my guess".

**Galactica Raptor 3  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

"Uhh, Helo, our four friends are closing in on us."

"Loosen up Racetrack, we'll be clear in plenty of time".

"Yeah. I hope. Assuming iGalactica/i doesn't blast us in the crossfire, the toasters don't shoot us down…and you didn't make a mistake in those calculations".

"What's that supposed to mean?" Helo demanded, appreciating the light banter given that he was doing his best to get four missiles carrying enough firepower to wipe out a major city to follow him.

"Oh I just remember how much you suck at math-".

"Oh for fraks-, just get the damn pods ready"

Racktrack worked her controls, arming the quartet of decoy pods the Raptor was carrying. As each was designed to make itself a target, they carried a powerful transmitter capable of sending a false image on all manner of frequencies. Selecting that of the cylons missiles seeker heads, the drones, in theory, should look like rather inviting targets for the relatively 'dumb' missiles chasing them.

"They're up. Engines are hitting redline, Tyrol's going to have your ass when we get back".

"The chief was born pissed off, he'll get over it".

"That's the truth- Beak left!"

Helo jerked the raptor to port. A salvo of blue bolts zipped through the space they had just vacated followed by the blur of a raider that filled the cockpit window for a micro second before vanishing under them.

"That was close" Helo muttered.

"Two point zero two meters to be exact. You do realize this plan is completely spaced?"

"Yup. But if we pull it off, we're heroes".

"Assuming Tigh doesn't shoot us for going off mission like this".

"Knowing Tigh, he'll find a way to do both".

"Shoot us, then give us medals?"

"No, he'll shoot us _with_ medals"

Explosions started to flicker around the Raptor as the Cylons remaining defensive weapons opened up, bursts of blue tracers shattering around Helo as the quartet of missiles continued to chase the huge EM signature his ship was projecting. Despite looking like their ship had run through an asteroid field at ludicrous speed, the Cylon Base Star still had teeth, a half dozen weapons emplacements spitting fire into space forced Helo to start pitching and rolling in evasive patterns. Each juke slowing their forward progress just that much more.

It wouldn't take much more for a Cylon gunner to-

A loud bang echoced through the cramped raptor flight deck followed by the screaming of metal giving way and the ship starting to shake heavily.

"What the frak was _that_?" Racetrack demanded, but a high pitched whistling cut him off.

"Hull breach!" Helo shouted, feeling the air roaring out into space and cursing the lack of a third crewmember that could lock down the breach.

He did however thank the Gods for their sealed flight suits.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine" Racetrack dismissed the damage as Helo's damage control board lit up like a Colonial Day fireworks display. "We need eight more seconds then we'll be in position".

"The engines are overheating, we may not BE here in eight seconds" Helo shouted, alarms buzzing as more lights turned from yellow to red. In that instant, a salvo of blue bolts slashed in, ripping through the starboard wing of the Raptor and blowing it half off, sending burning fuel pouring into space.

"Oh FRAK. We're loosing the starboard engine-"

"In range, DO IT!" Racetrack demanded as they passed a hastily calculated waypoint on her screen.

Helo tightened up on the triggers, sending a quartet of drones out at the Base Star which was starting to fill his window, then pulled into a crushing eight G turn as Racetrack switched jamming frequencies to the Cylons standard search wavelengths.

This would have the effect of hiding the missiles behind the drones for roughly four point two seconds.

Within two seconds, the few remaining defensive guns on the Base Star had identified and ignored the drones, swiveled to track the rapidly turning Raptor and managed to tag it and send it spinning off into space.

By three seconds, the incoming missiles hidden in the electronic noise from the Raptor and its decoys caught up to the bait they had been chasing. The missiles, designed to breach heavy naval plating didn't even register the impact of the lightweight drones and simply crushed them without registering the impact.

In three point nine seconds, said missiles automatically determined they had run through a phantom image and so their sensors swept space looking for a new target, finding one closing dead ahead at extreme speed Automatic IFF systems pinged the target, looking for the telltale signal of a Cylon transponder which would tell them to immediately self destruct.

Not that the missiles, in the second left in their short lives, would ever know, but one of iGalactica/i's railgun batteries had blown the Cylons communication systems clean off the hull of the Base Star thirty seconds earlier.

At four point one seconds, a Cylon humanoid saw the exhaust flair of the missiles from the Base Star. A normal humans mind couldn't possibly work fast enough to interpret the image and correlate it, but a Cylons brain worked much faster. Leaving the Cylon enough time to frame exactly one thought.

Frak-

At four point two seconds, the quartet of warheads impacted on the ship that had launched them, triggering their fission warheads, which in turned powered a fusion of Deuterium and tritium, squeezing the mixture into a smaller and smaller area of space-time until the laws of physics reached their predictable endgame.

The nuclear detonation half blinded Helo and Racetrack, even though their considerable inertia had carried them safely out of the blast zone and rotated mostly away from the glare. Getting some control of their tumble, Helo managed to coax a low burn from the engines and started to slow the ship down, trying his best to shut down the alarms screaming in his ears including one or two he barely remembered from extreme training exercises back at the academy.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 103 days.**

Cheering broke out across the CIC as the Cylon Base Star disintegrated into glowing debris from the nuclear detonations. Across the fleet, half terrified civilians also broke into celebration, many of them watching feeds from their ships external cameras were delighted to see a ship full of the Cylons who had killed countless billions of humans turned into a rapidly expanding cloud of debris.

"Alright people, get back to work" Adama said, intent on keeping his people focused until they were out of here. "Mister Gaeta, what is the status of our fighters and the rest of the Cylon fleet?"

"Commander our fighters are still unengaged and pacing us as ordered. Helo's raptor is heavily damaged but slowly making its way back towards us. The Cylons are-" Gaeta broke off as a new alarm started to sound. "New DRADIS contact, it just…well…appeared on the other side of the Cylon force".

"Identify!" Adama demanded.

"No IFF detected, but I'm finding it hard to get a sensor return through that many Cylon ships. Best guess is Capital, size A" he responded, placing it in the same size range as something like Colonial One.

"It's gotta be a Cylon support ship" Tigh speculated. "But why the hell did it jump in all the way out there instead of over here?"

"Sir…that sphere of Raiders around that unknown contact is dissolving" Gaeta said in disbelief. "Most of them are actually heading towards this new contact…wait…yes, the Base Star designated Delta is turning towards it as well".

"Time until the fleet jumps?" Tigh glanced at a status display.

"Ships are spooling up their FTL drives now, the clock is at fifty five seconds".

Adama bit his lip. The fleet was out of danger, there weren't any Cylon ships except a few scattered raiders from the destroyed Base Ship anywhere near by and they were flooring it back towards their friends. The smart move would be to jump out ASAP. But if they jumped, they would leave behind too many unanswered questions.

Why did the tomb on Kobal tell them to come here?

Who and what was this first ship which destroyed a Base Star?

Who and what was this second ship?

Why did the Cylons attack them here? Now? In such force?

Adamas first duty was to ensure the safety of this fleet and the remainder of the human race. But if they left this system and didn't get the answers to these questions, the Commander had a horrible feeling that he would be signing the death warrant of the human race.

Once again, it came back to the nightmare.

Not that the human race would be wiped out in some final battle with the Cylons. No, this nightmare was that humanity would wander the Stars without any hope for salvation. Earth would once again become a myth as the years passed, the population dwindled, their ships failed and their hope vanished.

Until the last remnants of humanity died somewhere in space, having only postponed the death sentence the Cylons had visited upon the 12 Colonies.

Straightening up, he noted Tigh was staring at him with an expression he knew well, one that said his XO knew exactly what he was thinking. The Colonel gave a tiny nod which Adama returned, appreciating his support and confidence.

"Signal to the fleet, hold jump repeat hold jump. All ships are to keep their FTL drives ready but they are to hold their current position. Tell the Vipers to remain where they are, then bring us around and hold our position right here" Adama ordered…causing half the personnel in CIC to stop and stare in amazement at the two officers.

Tigh narrowed his eyes.

"Are you all deaf? _Move_!" Tigh demanded and the personnel scurried back into action. Tigh glowered at them for several seconds to ensure they were focused, then turned his stare on the ships communications specialist. "Dee, do you have any chatter from this new contact?"

"Actually sir, I think I'm getting something, but its not very clear thanks to all the Cylon ECM out there. I think I've cleaned it up as best I can though", the petty officer apologized.

"Push it up on the speakers, from the start" the Commander ordered, crossing his arms and leaning against the plot table.

"Yes Sir" she nodded, then a hissing mixed with buzzing and humming, though thankfully at softer volume levels, filled the room. The voice sounded male, but was constently washed out by static. Adama closed his eyes and tried to focus on it.

"….vessel Promet….have engaged in hostile actions……..peaceful exploration and…….have no quarrel with……no harm……respond with deadly force…..cease your attac…..mmediately".

Tigh and Adama exchanged a look as the static message vanished.

"Are the Cylons sending a reply?" Dee simply shook her head.

"Figures" groused Tigh. "Damn toasters never want to talk anyway. So the million cubit question is, who is this? Some lost fleet unit?"

"Would a fleet unit talk about being on a mission of peaceful exploration to the Cylons?" Adama asked dryly

"Point" conceded Tigh. "So if it's not Cylon and not ours, then what the Frak-"

The tactical display thankfully chose that point to light up with flashes of energy radiating out all over the place from the new unknown contact.

"What's going on?"

"Massive jamming from the unknown contact sir, I can barely see it on DRADIS anymore" Gaeta said in irritation, trying in vein to coax more resolution out of his sensors.

"But I am getting a signal" Dualla cut in.

"From the unknown?"

"No sir, It's Colonial One. The President is asking to speak with you immediately. Adama blinked. It wasn't like Roslin to but in during a military engagement, but she was probably wondering why they hadn't jumped out.

"Inform the President that we're busy, but there is no immediate threat at this point from the Cylons".

"_Galactica_, Apollo" a new voice interjected, causing Adama to blink. He had forgotten about his Son and the rest of the fighters out there and quickly picked up a phone, gesturing for Dee to direct the transmission to the speakers.

"Apollo, _Galactica_ actual. What do you see?"

"The Cylons left us to go and play with someone else minutes ago" Apollo replied, his voice filled with the usual distortion of the ships communications scramblers. "But there are nukes going off around this first unknown target like its colonial day right now. They are really trying to – wait…._Galactica_, Starbuck is detecting more nukes going off, this time the Raiders are taking it. Frak, the Raiders are dropping like flies! iGalactica/i, are you seeing this?"

Adama looked at Gaeta who nodded then frowned. "Sir I can see the Nukes, I can see the Cylons, but I can't see what the hell is doing this too them. It's almost like – Fraking hell!" the young officer suddenly swore. Adama turned back to the display just in time to see a massive energy burst appear where the lower Base Star had been, which faded to nothing.

_Not even a debris field was left..._

The electronic noise on the display cut off suddenly, revealing the two remaining Base Stars both moving towards the newcomer as well as all the remaining Raiders, which while reduced in numbers was still a powerful force.

What Adama and Tigh didn't know however was that the ships DRADIS system with the cessation of jamming from the unknown, had detected between five and seven other targets, ghosts which it wasn't able to get any kind of consistent sensor reading on. Given the amount of Raider and Base Star debris in the area, combined with Gaeta's busy job, it was understandable that the computer simply tagged these contacts as non threats and deleted them from the ships tactical display.

Even if they were very much not space debris.

"If that ship doesn't get out of there it's going to get blown to hell" Tigh said, tapping the icon. "Gaeta, what's the course between this newcomer and the Base Star designated Delta?"

"Course is six one three, CBDR" the officer reported, meaning the two ships were heading right for each other, the swarm of Raiders powering on ahead of their Mothership, clearly going to take the first shot. They were almost in their ideal firing position when the unknown opened fire with some kind of rapid fire weapon, swatting them out of the sky almost as fast as _Galactica_ could.

_Which was more then a little impressive given that _Galactica_ is an order of magnitude larger then this ship_, Tigh thought.

"Radiological alarm, those raiders are firing Nukes" Gaeta commented as his sensors slowly came back online after the energy overload from the explosion that had destroyed the previous Base Star. Tigh gripped the plotting table with white knuckles watching as the fast tracks of missiles converged. The unknown ship knocked off a few of the Raiders, then switched to the Nukes as they got close.

Too late

Another brilliant white flash obscured the DRADIS display at the location of the hard charging target as a swarm of nukes detonated on target.

"Damnit" Apollo swore over the speakers in the CIC.

"Well so much for that ship. I guess the Cylons were not impressed with the 'we come in peace' line and they…."

Tigh's voice trailed off as the screen cleared once again…showing the ship still there…and Cylons still dropping off the screen all around it".

Tigh's jaw dropped open as this ship waltzed through over five megatons worth of firepower without even loosing velocity.

"That's not possible!"

"Apparently it is" Adama responded, staring at the yellow icon, watching the red icons representing raiders clustering around it and steadily vanishing from the tracking display.

"No ship that size can survive a nuke let alone a half dozen of them at once!" Tigh protested, his mind working in small circles.

"Base Star is firing all missile batteries!" Gaeta put in, two dozen new tracks rippled away from the Base Star. All registering as carrying heavy duty city killing warheads.

"Lords of Kobal, that's enough firepower to vaporize a _Mercury _class Battlestar!" Tigh exploded. "What the hell is this thing?"

Any of the bridge crew not having to do something critical at this point in time were staring at the nearest DRADIS repeater around the bridge…meaning near everyone saw what happened next.

The unknown vanished…just vanished without a trace. Tigh felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight as Gaeta refocused the display and the unknown icon reappeared suddenly, it had somehow moved in seconds to within point blank range of the Base Star! A cluster of sensor tracks which could only be missiles rippled from it and arrowed right from the Cylon ship-

And the Base Ship's sensor profile flashed with the distinctive signature of a jump drive and vanished, the icons of the few raiders left around the planets orbit also expanding then vanishing into nothing followed by the last Base Star which had never even fired a shot.

Adama slowly let out a breath, hissing through his teeth as the tension of battle left him. Mostly.

"Signal the fleet, stand down to condition two, but remain ready to jump. Recall the Vipers and get Helo back on board ASAP". Adama raised his head and looked back up at the two yellow unknown targets on the DRADIS display, the first clearly on a course to return with the second. "Then get the President and Vice President back over here ASAP".

"Sir. What should I tell them?" Dee asked as she flicked open a channel.

"We need to talk. Now".

Next chapter, the real crossover :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the wait. A few minor changes here, I've moved the timeframe upto 200 days post Miniseries, which keeps much more in line with the real timeline of events around 'Home' and 'Final Cut'. **

**Stargate Command.   
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado  
Earth, Milky Way.  
January 11, 2005.**

Stargate Command had been through countless modifications over the nine years of its operational lifetime as a USAF base, but it had never lost its original character, dating back five almost decades now.

Not that the base officially existed, of course.

The (still technically classified) 'public' blueprints of the Cheyenne Mountain facility at the Library of Congress in Washington DC showed a Missile Silo built where the SGC now stood, originally designed as a launching site for NIKE surface to air missiles to defend the complex from the threat of Soviet bombers.

The system had been decommissioned in the late 50's and the silo left dormant with the cancellation of the NIKE program. Poorly suited for any other NORAD purpose, the silo had been abandoned until one of those wonderful congressional consolidation phases, in which several politicians decided it would be an awfully good idea to turn the disused silo into a facility to test prototype ICBM engines, rather then built a new facility at such terrific cost to the taxpayers of the United States.

Much to the annoyance of the Space Command who liked their peace and quiet under millions of tons of rock, thank you very much.

NORAD's personnel however were left happy (if completely mystified) when the facility was scraped after a test burn failure of a modified Titan II engine. Rumors of why the facility had been decommissioned so rapidly after going online encompassed everything from Soviet spies infiltrating the base to an alien invasion. Whatever the truth, by the start of the 1970's, the facility had been left to gather dust.

And gather dust it did, until the middle of the 1990's when a General West had submitted a priority request for an absolutely secure location to conduct military research on a black project, co-chaired with one Doctor Catherine Langford. In the middle of huge post Cold War budget cuts, the Pentagon had been unwilling to offer funding for a new facility, instead, offering the disused Silo.

Rent free!

So the Stargate came to it's new home and, (after one false start), the President of the United States had authorized funding for the facility; to both establish peaceful relations with the denizens of the Galaxy and recover technology to aid in the fight against the Goa'uld.

And here the base remained, after a half dozen attempts to shut it down (almost all exclusively by Senator/Vice President Richard Kinsley), several alien attacks (and foothold situations), the complete destruction of a Stargate, theft a Stargate and generally hostile acts by a rather large number of Goa'uld.  
Equipped with technology beyond state of the art, the facility was the front line for interaction between this lonely planet out in the Orion arm and the Galaxy at large…

_But the damn place still looks like something from Doctor Strangelove_ Lieutenant General Hank Landry thought to himself as he walked out of the elevator into yet _another_ concrete reinforced hallway with plumbing for a roof and armed security guards standing imposingly in front of a door, behind which was the one of two rooms on the base that didn't look like it belonged in the 1960's…

Built by order of General O'Neill and based off the design for a similar room at the Alpha site, the new strategic command centre had been Jack O'Neill's answer to the problem of trying to keep track of a Galaxy in a state of chaos. It had taken him less then two days after taking command of the SGC from Doctor Elizabeth Weir to decide reading intelligence report after intelligence report was going to drive him (and Sergeant Walter Harriman for that matter) nuts in very little time.

With the Command Centre, one could keep track of just about any situation from across the Galaxy to the most remote backwater on Earth in real time and minimal effort. One corner of the room was dominated by a high resolution screen driven by a custom built Sun Microsystems computer, upgraded with as much stolen Goa'uld technology as could be crammed into it. A series of lesser workstations around the room dealt with everything from incoming communications, current SGC team operations/locations, Starships assets, status reports from Atlantis, the current US threat board…and just about everything else a flag officer might need, or want, to know.

Glancing at the wall mounted clocks as he stormed into the room, Landry managed not to curse out loud in front of the troops. It was already seventeen hundred hours local; meaning the Alpha shift at the SGC was coming off duty. Including his Daughter whom he had wanted to try and test the waters with (on a level other then purely professional) as she settled in. Mentally deciding he could put it off yet _another_ day; he turned his glower on the duty officer, who promptly handed him a printout of the FLASH signal from the Prometheus.

Landry's frown deepened as he got past the first line.  
Then his eyes widened as he read the second.

"Lieutenant, get Sergeant Harriman in here right-"  
"Here sir" Walter suddenly spoke up at his elbow, causing Landry to damn near jump out of his skin. How in the hell Walter knew exactly when and where he was needed and got there _before_ Landry finished calling for him was just another of the enduring mysteries of Stargate Command he knew he would never solve. Mentally shrugging, he half turned to face the non-com as he continued to read the communication.  
"Get me General O'Neill".  
"Sir...it's nineteen hundred hours in Washington and the General usually leaves the Pentagon by-"  
"I know Chief" Landry responded, still glowering at the printout. "Get him. Now."  
Taking a hint from the tone of the Generals voice, Walter moved off to one of the communications terminals-

-The one with the red phone attached to it-

-and from memory, started to patch a call through to General O'Neills secure cell phone.  
Somehow, Walter knew it would be a long night.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

Raptor #067 jolted to a complete stop inside the hanger deck of the Battlestar Galactica with none of the fanfare one would expect for the arrival of the President and Vice President of the 12 Colonies. Instead as the port hatch of the Raptor disengaged and rose on hydraulic jacks, a roar of celebration filled the cabin, but there was no cheering throng outside the tiny ship. Exchanging a glance with Dr Gauis Baltar, Lara Roslin stepped out onto the wing of the shuttle and looked around for the source of the commotion. She found it quickly, another Raptor, badly damaged by the look of it, was surrounded by deck crew, who were cheering and applauding. Looking closer, she identified the targets of their acclamation as Lieutenant Agathon and another pilot she didn't recognize, both being carried off like conquering heroes.

Leaving behind Chief Tyrol on the far side of the Raptor, who was looking over the smoking assault ship with an expression that suggested he would prefer to shove the two pilots out of the nearest airlock then shake their hands.

"Madam President? Mister Vice President?"  
Turning back, Laura found herself staring at Captain Lee Adama whose Viper had escorted her in from Colonial one. Accepting his hand, she carefully stepped down to the flight deck and smiled.  
"It's good to see you again Captain...can you tell me why your father hasn't jumped the fleet out of danger yet?"  
Her choice of words had been selected as carefully as only a politician could. Referring to the CAG's commanding officer by his biological relationship was a move calculated to put Apollo on the back foot and motivate him to speak out in defense of the actions of a family member.

Unfortunately, either the Captain was too well disciplined for such a tactic to work, or, he had been given very specific instructions to say nothing.

"I'm afraid you'll have to talk to the _Commander_ for that answer Madam President" Lee replied, the slight emphasis on his fathers rank showing he had seen through the not too subtle attempt at manipulation, but his tone suggesting he hadn't been offended by it.  
"Fair enough" the President nodded, gesturing the then gestured to the stairs that led up from the flight deck. "But if I may ask, did we loose anyone out there?"  
Apollo shook his head as he turned and helped the President up the last few steps into the transition bridge to _Galactica_proper from the hanger pods.  
"Thank the Gods for that at least" Roslyn sighed, taking thanks for small victories. Lee smiled slightly.  
"The Gods were on our side today. Well them and..."  
"And?"  
"And you'll have to talk to the Commander, Madam President" Apollo responded with a tight grin as they entered the ships Starboard access way.

**Puddle Jumper Snake Null.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005.**

"Snake null, come left ten, maintain speed, try to hold your glide slope"  
"Copy that Prometheus" Colonel Mitchell responded, batting a tendril of smoke out of his way as he tried to line up the sluggish Puddle Jumper with the starboard hanger of the _Prometheus_. The Battle Cruiser was less then three Kilometers away, the bright rectangle making the hanger bay a welcome sight to Mitchell, almost close enough to make him feel safe.

He silently begged the ship to hold together just a little longer.

Predictably, the ships engines whined and another set of diagnostic icons on Carters laptop went red.

"Cam, we lost the starboard drive pod" Carter warned, reaching up to slide her fingers along several gleaming control strips, electing a whine of protest from the ships power plant, but no restart.  
"Well we've still got one engine left. Think positive!"  
"Thinking positive!" Daniel agreed from his seat. "Really _really_ thinking positive"  
Cameron grinned despite himself and triggered his radio.

"Vader, how does it look from back there?"   
"Confirming starboard flameout Null" Aston responded, his keeping his F-302 hovering close enough to give the beat up craft a look over. It really was a sight to behold. The once pristine and polished brown hull was covered in scorch marks from the nuclear detonations, not to mention more then a few dents from rail gun slugs Mitchell had not quite avoided.

"The Jumper is correcting, but it's sluggish" muttered commented to Carter as he wrestled with the controls, sloppy adjustments where there had once been a tight response. "Can you do anything about it?"  
"Not really. The power grid in the nacelles is hanging on by a thread, if I try to divert power back to the starboard engines-"  
"We might loose the port engine all together. Got it" Mitchell winced, double clicking his radio to get attention.  
"Prometheus, we might have to skid this one out"  
"Copy that Null" Pendergast responded. "Just hold your course. We'll do the rest".  
_Prometheus_ started to reorient, her pilot carefully yawed the much larger ship to line up the hanger bay with the jumper, the protective bulkhead doors over the hanger slowly opening as they approached. With the HUD non functional, Mitchell picked a reference point on the Battle Cruiser and worked the controls, managing to ease out of their slight dive with gentle nudges of power.  
_Damn_. Mitchell thought to himself as he eased up his death grip on the controls. _We're going to make it! _

Naturally, the Jumpers second engine chose this point to fail.

"Make that zero engines left Cam" Carter announced as one of the last green icons on her tablet display went red and with a thud, the hum of the Jumpers power plant fell to nothing. Suppressing a curse, Mitchell tried pulling his yoke every which way, attempting to get any kind of response…and got a firm nothing in reply.

The entire flight control system was dead.

"Oh nuts" Mitchell muttered as Carter vaulted out of her seat and into the passenger compartment, ripping out a set of optical fiber and patching it into her graphics tablet, as _Prometheus's_ hanger steadily grew in the view port.  
"Oh great what?" Daniel demanded from one of the back seats in the cockpit.  
Mitchell looked up.  
"You know if this thing has airbags?"

_Prometheus's_ starboard hanger was filled with noise as personnel ran to emergency landing stations and anything even remotely flammable was locked down or moved the hell off the flight deck. The ships crew had been drilled mercilessly on this kind of scenario and went about their tasks with a calm professionalism rather removed from the usual Hollywood blockbuster. A series of steel cables were pulled taught by shock absorbers, they in turn suspended an array of nets made out of Kevlar fiber across the hanger. Damage control teams in full firefighting gear made final checks in compartments off the flight deck, a full medical team just behind them. The bridge personnel collectively held their breath as the Jumper passed the warships bow, the black F-302 pacing it veering off for its own hanger bay as the laws of physics drove the jumper forward implacably.

"Sam…" Cameron commented as the interior of the hanger bay start to become disturbingly detailed. At any real distance from _Prometheus_, all one could make out was a dark internal space.

The fact that he could read the safety warnings on the walls of the hanger bay told him he was getting rather too close, for someone without engine power.

"I've almost got it" the Colonel's muffled voice came from the passenger compartment as she worked to divert energy.  
"Now would really be a good time" Daniel agreed, slowly starting to lean away from the view port as if his action could slow the ship down. Carefully, almost fatalistically, he removed his glasses and tucked them into one of his vests numerous pockets as he looked around for any kind of restraint system.  
"I can't rush this" Sam muttered as she tapped away, cycling power from the energy cells in the Jumper through the inertial dampening power grid.  
"No, really, feel free to" Daniel corrected as the light filling the cabin from the systems Primary was blocked by the bulk of _Prometheus_.  
Sam tapped a final sequence and the pathway flashed green, causing her to smile slightly before leaping into the couch and pressing up behind the bulkhead and shouting "Go!"  
Mitchell grabbed the yoke and pulled, the lights all over the console snapping back to life as energy returned to the control board.

Power surged through the engines just as the Jumper passed through the Asgard atmospheric shields into the hanger bay and the ships artificial gravity field. With less then five meters to go, the nacelles lit up and the Jumper decelerated violently to hover at a thirty degree angle, the nose suspended exactly five centimeters above the hanger. Unfortunately with the inertial dampeners rerouted all over the place, the deceleration hit everyone inside like a kick to the back. Mitchell and Carter's Air Force training kicked in automatically, with them bracing for the impact effectively enough to remain seated.

Daniel however flew from his chair and slammed into the deck of the jumper just barely avoiding cracking his head on the base of the command console.

A half second later, the engines failed once again and the Jumper crashed down to the deck, sending equipment in the overhead bins flying into the cabin.

At which point the lights inside the cabin completely failed.

"Daniel, you ok?" Mitchell yelled as he ripped a hand light from one of his tactical vest pockets and carefully stepped out to kneel beside the archeologists head. He was clearly breathing and it didn't look like there was any major trauma. He was about to reach down and check for a response when Daniel spoke.

"Seriously. I missed Atlantis for this?"

**Cylon Fleet.  
660 Light years from Caprica.   
Cylon Victory + 203 days.**

A region of space twisted, warped and collapsed in on itself, then snapped back into place with a flash of orange/white light, bringing with it a pair of silver/white warships hovering in the darkness between the stars.

Within milliseconds of their arrival, recognition codes were broadcast rapidly to another pair of identical ships hovering less then twenty kilometers away. The codes, theoretically unbreakable one time issues, were checked and rechecked with intense scrutiny; until there was no doubt that the newcomers were friendly. Missile batteries that had been powered up were reset to standby, targeting sensors snapped back off, and almost grudgingly, the two ships spread apart allowing a small transport from one of the newcomers past. It accelerated towards a third ship hovering serenely behind it's guardians, flanked by a small group of support ships and literally enclosed by massive formations of raiders.

Unlike the quartet of Base Ships hovering around the perimeter designed with long dramatic arms that mounted missile batteries and ejection ports for Raiders, this ship lacked even the most basic weapons system. Tall and long with a rough diamond shape, the ships most striking feature was the hollow interior, covered in perfectly transparent crystalline plating, carefully supported by the massive exoskeleton that made up the ship itself.

From almost anywhere inside, a Cylon could look out onto the majesty of God's Universe and contemplate their place and his plan for it. This alone was worth the inherent structural deficiencies of the massive walls of transparent material.   
And even though it was true that people could see into the ship as easily as out, the Cylons were not expecting that to be a problem.

If so much as a small asteroid drifted within range it would be blown into shards in seconds.  
Then the shards themselves blasted into even smaller shards.

_Nothing_ unaccounted was allowed to exist around this ship.

Hundreds of red eyes from the ships fighter screen glared at the heavy raider as it slowly drifted through their formations. Passing into the hollow interior of the ship, it spun around and matched velocities before locking onto a heavy duty airlock and allowing the personnel on board to leave. They were greeted by a surprised Three, Six and an Eight, who started to explain how the attack on _Galactica's_ civilian leadership had taken an unexpected turn.

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005.**

Samantha Carter, Cameron Mitchell and Daniel Jackson walked down the ramp of the puddle jumper in haste, as if expecting the ship to explode in the next few seconds. When they were at what they felt was a safe distance, they turned and regarded the sorely abused ship, looking rather pathetic next to a second Jumper further down the flight deck.

Regarding the scorched spacecraft, Mitchell turned to look at Daniel who was still rubbing his forehead and wincing in pain.  
"Well Jackson….they say any crash you can walk away from-"  
"Means the pilot needs pilot lessons" Daniel finished, removing his miraculously undamaged glasses and restoring them to their proper place.  
Mitchell frowned, and then shrugged.  
"Touché"

Turning away from the crippled ship, Mitchell walked over to a new figure that had just entered the hanger bay in the flight suit of an F-302 pilot.  
"Vader, thanks for saving our asses out there" Cameron said, shaking the offered hand of the officer who had been promoted to lead the F-302 fighter squadron on the Prometheus after Cameron had been transferred dirt side with the SGC.  
"No problem Shaft" the shorter man said with a half smile. "If I got SG1 killed, I'd never hear the end of it". Colonel Aston looked around for a second, and then the half smile fell of his face as he lowered his voice. "We lost Dixon and Brown".  
Mitchell's remaining good cheer from surviving the pseudo crash landing faded in an instant as he came to grips with the fact that two men had had trained and worked with for close to two years were dead.  
Not just dead, but dead in a foreign universe, in a battle that officially never happened against a race that officially didn't exist.  
Glancing at Aston, Mitchell recognized the look on the pilots face all too well; he had seen it for months in the mirror after he had crashed his F-302 in Antarctica. The look had only vanished when he had finally been able to write a letter to the wives, parents and children of the dozen people he had lost over the South Pole.  
"Did you want me to-"  
Aston shook his head. "Thanks Mitchell, but this" he fingered the silver cluster on his lapel "isn't all pay rise and giving orders". Aston smiled wryly." But here's one for you anyway. Pendergast wants you three on the bridge ASAP".

"Put it in terms I can understand Lieutenant, what kind of threat are we looking at here?"  
Colonel Linol Pendergast worked hard to keep his voice even. The object of his Ire was one of his bridge officers, First Lieutenant Womack, who was trying to explain a status report from the CIC in language _somewhat_ close to English.

And failing.

"Yes sir" the women said with a slightly abashed look. "The hostiles attempted a brute force attack into our communications and data linking systems. The initial attempts were attempts to duplicate the signals we were sending to the F-302's and fake an entrance, but the data packets were all rejected upon being received, even when they managed to match the current frequency cycle. Even if they had managed to fake an acceptable signal, all of our communications devices accept only very specific data structures, which are then copied into a new format and sent off to the relevant computer systems. So there isn't any possible way they could get executable code in-".  
"So they can't get into our systems?" Pendergast asked, translating _that_ block of technobabble as 'intrusion; failed.  
"Not through the data links. They might be able to crack the encryption and frequency cycle to read the packets in transit. But unlike the _Daedalus's_, the x303 was built without remote terminal access, all the computers are hard linked through a proprietary hieratical operating system which-"  
"Womack?"  
"Sir?"

_"Yes or no" _Pendergast pleaded.

"No sir. Not unless they get on board and get physical access to the network".  
"_Thank_ you" Prendergast sighed, signing off on the report and rubbing his eyes slightly. The Lieutenant passed off the report to an enlisted officer then resumed her station opposite Marks on Pendergast's left as SG1 entered.

"Colonels, Doctor, good to see you're all ok" the Colonel said, swinging his chair around to get a look at them and returning the salutes of the two military officers. "Everyone ok?"  
"More or less" Daniel nodded, not quite glaring at the pilot in the group. Mitchell sighed tolerantly and stepped forward, glancing out the bridge bulkhead towards the fleet of ships orbiting the planet in front of them.  
"The Jumper is probably a write off though" Mitchell sighed as he mentally added a second advanced spacecraft to his list of destroyed vehicles. "But she took a hell of a beating".

"So we saw" Pendergast replied, leaning back in his chair slightly. "So would one of you like to tell me how in less then fifteen minutes, you three got Earth into the middle of a shooting war?"

Daniel looked at Cameron, who looked at Sam, who looked at Daniel, joined a second later once again by Cameron.

Sighing, Daniel pulled his omnipresent book from Gladsbery out from under his arm and opened it at a bookmark he had placed.

"It all starts back with the Ancients returning from Atlantis…"

**Battlestar Galactica   
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

Colonel Saul Tigh braced himself as the bulkhead door to the CIC swung open to admit _Galactica's_ Air Group Commander, followed by the President of the Twelve Colonies and her Vice President. Roslin smiled and nodded at the Marine who held the door open for her, then briskly strode down and around the walkway to the plotting table, her eyes focused on the two men standing at the centre of the room.  
And her expression wasn't one that inspired a happy feeling.

"She's pissed" Tigh summed it up simply.

Adama glanced at him before turning back to the approaching President.  
"She has reason to be" Adama agreed, reflecting on the rather curious situation they found themselves in. "But she has a skill lacking in most politicians I've met in my life".  
"And that is?" his XO asked out of the corner of his mouth as the party reached the stairs to the floor and started down.  
"She is willing to listen" Adama answered, straightening slightly as Roslin stepped up directly opposite the Commander.  
_Most of the time anyway_ Adama didn't add.

The Vice President stopped short of the table and walked around behind Roslin, staying close enough to hear their conversation but far enough away to be excluded from the debate.

"Commander, perhaps you would like to tell me precisely _why_ you haven't jumped the fleet out of the system, which the last time I checked, had compromised our position to the Cylons?" Roslin asked in a tone that strongly hinted she wasn't looking for a debate, just obedience.

"She's afraid" Six's voice sounded into the CIC, causing the Vice President to turn his head. His self professed angle from God was stalking around the table, taking in each of the trio standing there with interest. "He" she said moving away from the President and nodding at Tigh, "is half scared to death"  
"Of who? What?" Balter muttered under his breath, too low for anyone to hear but her. She raised an eyebrow.  
"Of the unknown" she shrugged, "like all humans are".  
"So Cylons don't fear the unknown?" he scoffed, getting a strange look from an officer behind him, who shrugged and kept at his work.  
Six merely smiled and shook her head like a teacher whose pride student had disappointed her.

Again.

"There are no unknowns Gaius, God knows all, discovery brings us closer to him. And he"…she put her hands on the Commander and leaned in close to his face as he talked, almost causing Balter to call out in alarm until he forced himself to remember she wasn't actually there. "This one is…unsure" she declared with a glint in her eyes.  
"About what?" Baltar muttered. Six propped herself up onto the table, adjusting her scarlet dress, then grinned at him.  
"Everything".

"Excuse me Doctor?" Commander Adama broke into their conversation, frowning as he looked across at the Vice President. Feeling a flush of heat on the back of his neck, Baltar realized he had been staring at the Commander when Six had repositioned herself

From her expression, Balter decided she found his situation highly amusing.

"I was just thinking out loud Commander" Balter improvised smoothly on the fly, levering himself off the wall and walking into the circle. "The question I think we need to be asking, is what was all this about?"  
"What the frak are you talking about?" Tigh asked with an irritated look on his face.  
"The Cylons jumped in with five Base Ships at extreme range, as if to contain us, in perfect formation. But we know Base Ships can jump in far closer to a planet then they did. Why didn't they?"  
"Caution" Adama responded, not dismissing the line of inquiry outright, but clearly not buying it. "Jumping in that close would play to our strengths, not theirs. We'd stand a good chance of crippling several ships before they could launch a large enough number of Raiders".  
"Perhaps but I-"  
"Another possibility" the Commander cut him off, "is that it wasn't us they were after".  
The President and Vice President traded a look.  
"What do you mean?" Roslin inquired with the kind of natural curiosity only a teacher had. Adama turned to the crew pit.  
"Lieutenant Gaeta, bring up the DRAIS logs from a point ten minutes in system.  
"Yes Sir" he said. The screen above them flashed on and the battle started to play from the arrival of the Base Stars.  
"This is the point when you and the Vice President left. Mister Gaeta, advance two minutes". The display blurred into motion, then settled down again. "At this point, we detected a new contact, a completely unknown design".  
"Some kind of Cylon ship?" the President guessed.  
"Not unless the toasters have started a civil war" Tigh muttered as the unknown contact fired upon and annihilated the primary Base Ship. Disbelief rode on the face of the President as Adama advanced the recording.  
"Our Vipers engaged the enemy and at about the same time, a new contact appeared behind the Cylons. These base ships" he tapped the two icons sitting above and below the debris of the first destroyed ship, "started to maneuver to engage. This one was obliterated" Adama paused as the lower Base ship exploded with an energy signature greater then the first ships detonation by orders of magnitude" and then the unknown cruised over towards this Base ship, withstood multiple high yield nuke impacts and would have taken out it's target, except that the entire Cylon force ran for it.

Adama delivered the news of this single small ship fraking over a full scale Cylon assault force as calmly as if he was discussing the fleet's water reclamation systems, leaving the President working her jaw for a second before she was able to talk.  
"Where is this ship now?"  
"Sitting roughly twenty thousand off the fleets' orbital path, it's just…waiting. Starbuck is keeping an eye on it".  
"Any idea who they are?"

Tigh and Adama shared a look.  
"No" the Commander finally responded. "But we did intercept part of a message directed at the Cylon fleet. Dee, put it up".  
"Sir" the Petty officer acknowledged, and then flicked a few switches. Static hissed from the speakers mounted through the CIC, then a voice partially fought its way through.  
"….vessel Promet….have engaged in hostile actions……..peaceful exploration and…….have no quarrel with……no harm……respond with deadly force…..cease your attac…..mmediately".

Gaius Baltar frowned at the contradictions in the communication. They spoke the language of the 12 colonies, logically it would appear to rule out exotic explanations like aliens...yet they apparently had no quarrel with the Cylons?

Humanity had a rather large quarrel with the Cylon at this point in history.

They said were on a mission of peaceful exploration, yet packed enough firepower to defeat at least two Base Stars and cause the others to run for the hills?

_Something here doesn't add up_ he decided, slowly examining the facts in his mind as he tried to trace the missing piece of the puzzle.

"You are standing on the threshold of an historic moment, yet all you can do is sit in the background worrying about the content of an irrelevant signal" Six commented suddenly right next to him.  
Long practice with the Cylon had taught him to control the urge to jump out of his skin by simply shutting his eyes for a second.

And when he opened them, he was no longer in the Galactica's CIC.

Instead he was leaning on a railing on the edge of a balcony, which was attached to a house that didn't exist anymore. The overcast sky dimmed the sunlight enough to make the environment appear almost surreal, a cold breeze moving in from the choppy lake in front of him robbing his skin of warmth.

A pair of arms wrapped around his torso brought heat back into his skin, followed by the warmth of a body pressed against his as Six rested her head on his shoulders.

"You know" Baltar said, not turning around and reflecting on the vista in front of him, "I owned this house for years. But it wasn't my home. I slept here. I ate here. But I never lived here". Baltar slowly ran his gaze over the areas down under the balcony which he _knew_ no longer existed but still looked perfectly real. "I had my work. I didn't look for love, I didn't care about love" he said, turning to face his omnipresent companion.  
"Until I met you of course".

Six studied him carefully

"So where do you think is your home now Gaius?" she asked, curiosity in the silkily smooth voice. "Galctica? Colonial One? Or perhaps here?" she commented, letting go of him and opening her arms to take in the vista of the environment that existed within his mind.

Baltar slowly stood up, chuckling darkly

"I don't know anymore. Ever since I left Caprica, since I pushed your body off mine and stumbled outside, I haven't had a home. Really, no human has since the attacks" he commented softly, as once again the enormity of his crimes slowly crept up on him from where he kept it, until he forced it back down again.

Six laughed softly, clearly amused at his discomfort.  
"No Gaius, Humanity has a home and has always had a home long before Kobal was ever settled. God has led you to the road home today…and back to The Path that our child must follow".  
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, though he suddenly was sure he didn't want to know.  
"Understanding is for the future Gaius. Today, you must act on faith."  
Gaius opened his mouth to ask act on what-  
-And with a flash he was back in the CIC.

"Well, what do you think Doctor?" Roslin asked, looking up at her Vice President as the speakers cut off at the end of the static filled communication. Her subordinate was standing against a communications station at the edge of the CIC, very carefully keeping out of the debate, watching and waiting.

_But is he waiting because he has nothing to add …or is he waiting because he simply doesn't care about the situation? _

She had chosen the Doctor as her Vice President simply because he had the stature and name recognition to stand up to Tom Zerak. She had worked with him long enough to gain what she thought had been an understanding of him. Brilliant, but not a politician. Eccentric, but harmless.

But in between her exile from public life during the conflict with Adama, he had changed somehow. Though he had always been egocentric, his attitude was now tinged with arrogance. While he had always shunned the political spotlight, content with his work on Galactica, now he was talking to the press almost as much as she was…even if they didn't particularly want to listen.

Something in him had changed…and Roslin didn't know what.  
_Or did I never understand him at all? Is there someone else lurking under his skin, that I haven't ever seen? _  
That thought disturbed her. He was next in line to succeed her as the head of the Government for the tiny fraction of humanity that was left. She couldn't risk him leading humanity right into the hands of the Cylons, for want of easy solutions…

But now wasn't the time to dwell on such thoughts. She needed his insights more then her paranoia today.

"I think this is a waste of time" Baltar responded, snapping Roslin from her line of thought as he rejoined the conversation, an expression of not quite smug superiority on his face. "Regardless of what happened in the engagement, if we want to know more, we're going to have to talk with them and the sooner we do so, the better. I somehow can't imagine it will be more then a few days before the Cylons will be back. They might have gotten a bloody nose, but that will just encourage them to come back three times as strong".  
That thought brought an unpleasant reality to the minds of the senior staff, the last thing they needed was the Cylons returning with even more firepower.

There were just too many unknowns for her liking, and the logical part of her said to jump out immediately. Not to risk the tiny cutting of humanity that could one day be planted on some distant planet, be it Earth or somewhere else.

But a part of her, the part that had driven her to go for the arrow of Apollo, to return to Kobal and risk splitting the fleet, to keep going after everything that had happened…it told her something different.

"I think we're going to have to attempt communications with the unknown ship gentlemen" she decided, looking at Adama. "Anyone want to volunteer?"  
"You're the head of state of the twelve colonies, you're the logical choice" Tigh pointed out, his tone suggesting he had barely avoided adding the word 'fraking' before 'head of state'.

Adama shot him a look that backed him off before turning back to the President.

"I would tend to agree, you are the head of the Government-"  
"Yes, but the President doesn't initiate contact" she pointed out as her mind reeled with the events that may well have changed everything. She wasn't trained for anything like this; she was a teacher, not a first contact specialist! "Until we know what we're dealing with, I think you should be the one to open communications. If you need to make a split second call to jump out or respond in some way, it would be better if I wasn't standing in the way, so to speak".

Commander Adama shared a glance with his son, whose expression showed he had caught her line of thought. Her logic, though perfectly valid, was simply a smokescreen for the fact that she simply didn't have a clue what to say.

Not that _he_ did, but she was the boss, which now made it _his_ problem.

"Well unless anyone else has any better ideas?" the President asked, glancing at the remaining people. His CAG and XO (damn them) were not leaping to volunteer. Gaius Baltar on the other hand clearly looked as if he _wanted_ to be the first person to make contact, but the Presidents logic had neatly left him out of contention as effectively as she had removed herself.

When no-one volunteered his services, he dropped his gaze back down to the plotting board.

"Give me ship to ship, direct line" Adama ordered Galactica's communications specialist as he pulled a phone from the side of the plotting table, "match the wireless to the frequency the signal from the unknown came in on. Then push that frequency up on the speakers. And signal the fleet to remain at condition one until instructed".

_If this thing goes south, we need to get out of here in an awful hurry_ he thought to himself.

Duella acknowledged, and a few seconds later some light static hissed into the CIC speakers as the frequency came up. Feeling the eyes of the thirty people in the room on him, Adama placed the phone to his ear and toggled the transmit switch on the cradle.  
"Unknown vessel, this is Commander William Adama of the Battlestar Galactica. We have monitored your engagement with the Cylon fleet and extend our gratitude for your assistance". Adama hesitated a second as if trying to think of what to say, settling for "Please respond"…

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005.**

Colonel Lionel Pendergast, at this point in time, felt as if he was treading water.

He had dived head first into this engagement, albeit to rescue SG1 (or was it SG-0.7?) and their puddle jumper. But according to Doctor Jackson's hasty summery, he _might_ just have gotten Earth into the middle of an all our war between two new alien empires.

In another universe no less.

He had a horrible feeling that if he survived this day and got back to Earth, Generals Landry, O'Neill AND Hammond would be using him as the target for their next small arms qualification test

"Ok then. We've dug ourselves into this mess, any ideas how to get out of it?" Pendergast asked the three experts on first contact standing on his bridge.

Daniel, predictably, was the first to answer.

"Well as I see it, we have three choices" he started.  
"Of course we do" Mitchell nodded in agreement. After a slight pause, he gestured at Daniel. "Well go on."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, but somehow refrained from rolling his eyes as he turned back to Pendergast.

"Number one, we leave right away, cross back into our universe and shut down the whole Gateway containing any possibility of an incursion"  
"Well not necessarily" Carter frowned. "I mean there is nothing saying the Ancients didn't build another Gateway at some other point in this Galaxy. We don't have enough data on the local situation to make that kind of a call".  
"Point" Daniel conceded. "Okay, Option two, we fall back to our side of the rift and wait for instructions".  
"Which might not be such a bad idea" Mitchell pointed out, glancing at Pendergast who looked like he wanted to agree.

Emphatically.

"But if I'm right, this fleet isn't going to stay around forever" Daniel interjected. "And there isn't any guarantee we'll be able to find them again after they leave".

The ships Captain glanced at Carter who shrugged.

"He's right Sir. I couldn't make heads or tails of the sensor readings when they arrived with their FTL drive. If they leave here now, we might not be able to track them down again. Especially if they don't _want_ to be found".  
"Right, which brings us down to option three" Daniel finished with an earnest look. "We talk to them and see what we can find out, while waiting for a reply from Stargate Command".

"Oh I knew you were going to say that" Pendergast muttered. Thinking it over for a few seconds, he nodded slowly. "Well I don't see any other alternative. Marks, signal our current status back to the rift on encrypted subspace transmissions and inform Earth that we are opening communications". Pendergast exhaled slowly as he fitted a small microphone / headset to his ear. "Then open a channel on the same frequency as the Galactica and put it on speakers". Pendergast waited until Marks gave a nod, before tapping the ship-to-ship toggle on his armrest to 'active' and took a deep breath.

"Commander Adama, this is Colonel Linol Pendergast of the United States Air Force vessel Prometheus. We are travelers on a mission of exploration; we have no hostile intentions to you or your people…"

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

The tension steadily built in the CIC as three dozen personnel packed into the command centre waited for a response, in complete silence.

Well not _complete_. The soft hissing of static from the speakers was audible. As was the coughing of a handful of people who had been unconsciously holding their breath until their lungs forcibly protested. And the omnipresent rumble of the ships life support systems was still there.

But for all intents and purposes, the command centre of the massive warship was no louder then it would be shut down in space dock.

Meaning when the unknown ship eventually replied, a dozen personnel in the room jumped half out of their seats at the noise.

Exchanging a glance with Tigh, Adama turned to Roslin who was regarding him with an expression of detached interest that Adama had learned to associate with deep thought.  
"Their language, military ranks and the fact that they helped us against the Cylons suggests to me that the people on this ship are human" Laura pondered out loud, fingering her glasses slightly as she looked up at the wire frame sensor image.

"Perhaps, but that opens up a rather interesting question doesn't it?" Balter pointed out, leaning forward over the table. "It's a possibility they are from the twelve colonies and now represent some splinter of humanity that's left over-"  
"That's not possible, we don't have anything like that" Tigh snorted, nodding at the image on the screen.  
"Well no offence Colonel" – though Adama thought his tone was anything but inoffensive – "But I somehow doubt the Colonial Fleet sought to consult the great Colonel Saul Tigh about every advanced prototype in development before the Cylon attack"

Tigh's eyes flared, but another warning look from Adama told him to let it go.

"The kind of technology this ship is equipped with almost certainly precludes it being any kind of military prototype" Adama said, the experience speaking in his voice calming everyone down in the tension charged environment. "Prototypes are generally designed to test a _single_ technology, not a half dozen at the same time". He frowned slightly as he thought over the possibilities. "And they introduced themselves as representatives of an organization that we've never heard of."

"But it looks like we have a common language and culture" Apollo pointed out.

"Which they could have gotten from the Cylons, not us, if we're speculating…" Roslon wondered, then shook her head. "We're right back to the question of who they are, or what they are, we can't even prove they are even human for that matter".   
Personnel around the CIC exchanged uneasy looks at that possibility. The Cylons were bad enough, but at least they were a known quantity. A real alien species on the other hand…  
"Only one way to find out" the Commander muttered, putting the phone to his head once again.

"Prometheus, we are unfamiliar with your ships configuration…and to be honest, we have never heard of the 'United States Air Force'. Would you please clarify your allegiance and where you came from?"

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005**

"Well that's direct" Mitchell commented with a raised eyebrow as the frequency went quiet. It was a voice accustomed to command, Mitchell thought, with tones he had heard only in people like Pendergast and General Hammond, a supreme confidence and bearing that made even the most seasoned officer snap to attention.

And he clearly wanted to know who he was dealing with.

"Well we're going to have to tell them sooner or later, might as well be now" Daniel commented, crossing his arms and glancing across at Sam, who gave a slight nod in return.  
"Yes, but does it have to be sooner" Pendergast asked? He was hardly the kind of officer to hesitate, preferring decisive immediate action, albeit it considered action. But given how far over his pay grade the current situation was, he was understandably reluctant to dive any deeper.

"I get the feeling this Adama isn't going to let us fly on over without more information" Daniel reflected. Pendergast winced at the idea of allowing people to simply 'fly over', but he knew Daniel well enough to know he was always the first in line to open up a dialogue and help cultures understand each other, to stop mistakes from happening and find any kind of common ground that existed.

"Well we have to keep talking to them" Mitchell stated. "I mean…" Mitchell's voice trailed off with a confused look on his face, turning quickly to Daniel, who took the hint.

"Look, we know that they're on the run from these Cylons and that they may well be the descendents of _Ancients_. We also know that the Ancients built a whole civilization out here before they vanished".

"Doctor Jackson, if we tell them the truth, tell them we're from Earth-" Pendergast hesitated before getting cut off.

"I don't know" Daniel said with a helpless shrug. "_All_ we know is that were looking for it, the chatter we picked up from the ships in the fleet suggests many of them thought the planet they were orbiting might even be Earth, but…that's neither here nor there. The fact is that there might well be leftover Ancient technology of a recent vintage just sitting out here. Look at the ZPM's we got from the station. Local help would make finding anything much easier and like it or not, the best way to gain their trust is to tell them we're we are from".

"Yeah, that's why" Mitchell said as he clicked his finger and pointed at Daniel, nodding sagely. A glance at Colonel Carter showed that the possibility of relatively modern Ancient technology had her almost drooling over the deck plates.  
With a sigh, Pendergast gave in, tapping the communications link open again.

"Galactica, we represent the United States of America. One nation among many. From the planet, Earth".

Colonel Pendergasts voice was digitized and encrypted by the tiny boom mic/headset he wore, then transmitted into the bridges communications network. The bridge was well shielded, so the signal failed to breach the hull, but it didn't need to, a series of tiny antennas inside the command centre plucked the signal out of the air and in accordance with the settings on Pendergasts armchair and Marks console, shuffled the audio stream down the ships fiber optic network to the external communications systems and from there, beamed out into space.

The beam, moving at the speed of light, reached the _Galactica_ in roughly one fifteenth of a second.

One ship, the _Cloud Nine_, was in the right place to intercept the signal leakage from the Prometheus's, most of the signal hitting the _Galactica's_ hull and simply being absorbed by the heavy metals in the ships construction. On Cloud Nine however, a special live edition of the so called "Colonial Gang" of James McManus, Playa Palacios and Sekou Hamilton were offering running commentary of the chatter between _Galactica_ and the unknown ship as well as their own thoughts on the situation, broadcasting live to the rest of the fleet.

Huddling in cramped and overcrowded ships, still trying to calm down from the shock and terror of the Cylon attack, the vast majority of the civilian population was listing in with interest, or at least curiosity to stifle boredom.

Which mean when the fateful words '…from the planet Earth' echoed from the wireless, roughly 41,000 people heard.

The screaming and riot of celebration started seconds after.

"Jesus!" Marks exclaimed, yanking his headset from his ear before the speaker destroyed his eardrum, the sensor board exploding with activity in the EM band. He had had the speaker pulling in the noise from the radio wave area of the spectrum, looking for any kind of communications that might prove relevant.

But he hadn't been expecting the entire fleet to go off at once!

"Say again Captain?" Pendergast asked mildly.  
Marks winced at his outburst. _I really have to stop doing that_ he thought to himself, as he reset the headsets input stream and returned it to his head.  
"Sorry Sir, but the entire fleet in front of us just went nuts with communications chatter. I'm picking up ship to ship and what looks like internal communication leakage".  
"Well, what are they saying?"

Marks winced slightly as the computer started to sort through the tangle.

"Uh sir, I'm detecting over three _thousand_ active channels right now and increasing. Is there any particular conversation you want to listen to?"

Thankfully, Carter came to the rescue.

"Captain, patch the audio streams into a communications transcript process" the Colonel broke in, stepping away from the main bridge display around past Daniel.

Marks executed a few key strokes, as she came up next to his console.

"Right, now push the transcripts into a matrix, yes that one" Carter nodded, pointing to something on his display, "and be sure to set it to dynamic".  
Marks nodded and bent to the task as the Colonel turned away towards Pendergast, to explain why she was giving orders she had given on his bridge.

"Sir, the program should be able to listen in on the communications, then start a running count of which words are being used, displaying the most frequently used by the people. It's not perfect-"  
"But it will give us a rough snapshot of the type of words being used" Pendergast finished, nodding in approval. "Nice work. Marks, patch the results to the main screen when you're finished.

Marks nodded one last time, then the schematic of Prometheus flashed, vanished and was replaced by lines of scrolling text. Daniel turned and studied it.  
"Well this is interesting".  
"Interesting they like us or interesting evasive maneuvers?" Cameron inquired.  
"Oh no, they like us" Daniel muttered, his eyes widening slightly as a second list, this one of repeated phrases rather then words started to appear. "They uh…like us…a _lot_".

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

Earth. A physiological ploy to give forty thousand civilians on a goal to live for, rather then a reason to die.

Earth. A place the arrow of Apollo may have pointed the fleet towards…or pointed the way into a massive Cylon trap.

Earth. The planet that did not exist.  
Now the planet that did.

William Adama was not a man who easily lost his composure, but it was taking a rather significant amount of effort for him to keep it while the officers and enlisted personnel around his broke out into celebration.

For exactly four seconds.

"SILENCE ON DECK" Tigh shouted, his voice cracking across the CIC like a blast of frozen wind. "This is NOT a fraken circus, GET BACK TO WORK!"

For the next ten minutes, until the Colonel left the Command deck, not one officer, man or women from Lieutenant Gaeta on down would so much as think of anything but their own _immediate_ tasks.

"This is…this is a miracle" Roslin commented softly to no-one in particular, staring almost at nothing in particular  
"It might be at that" Adama allowed, desperately trying to break out of the small circles his mind was working in.  
"Sirs, I have the Quarom of twelve on the line, their demanding to speak with the President" Duella commented, looking up from her screen as she tried to cope with the shear amount of communications traffic flowing through the fleet, isolating the (relevant) messages directed at Galactica.  
"Not now" the President said with a shake of her head, before turning to Adama. "We've got to get control of this situation; we can't do that talking over the wireless."  
"What do you suggest?" Adama asked with caution, knowing _exactly_ what she was going to suggest.  
"Ask them to send a delegation over. If you don't want them here, I understand, we can get them to meet us on Colonial One".  
Adama was already shaking his head.  
"Thank you, but it's better for all of us if we meet them here" Adama stepped in before Tigh could agree to Roslin's suggestion. "We can control the situation better here, the last thing we need in this situation is a three way fight between you, the Press and the Quorum of Twelve".

"Good point" Roslin allowed, then sighed. "Well we might as well invite them on board".

The Commanded nodded, trying not to stare at Tigh's face, which was turning a curious shade of red.

"Colonel Pendergast, I appreciate your candor. I would like to extend an invitation…"

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005**

"…for a delegation to come over to our ship for a more personal expression of our gratitude for everything you and your people did for us. We would also like to take the opportunity to discuss…" the voice hesitated for a second, as if trying to think of what to say, then pushed on, "the future of relations between our two peoples and the threat of the Cylons".

_That's no diplomat_ was Daniels's first thought after the communications channel clicked off. He had made first contact with cultures across the known Universe more times then he could conveniently remember and one thing he had learned was to tell a diplomat apart from the typically military people whom SG1 ran into right off the bat.

Elizabeth Weir was the kind of person who could be thrust into almost any situation and simply adapt to it on the spot. He vividly remembered almost choking on a glass of water when she had sweetly blackmailed a room full of System Lords, in exchange for Earths help against Ba'al.

Jack O'Neill on the other hand, for all his amazing skill and insight into military situations, still more often then not would end up in a Mexican standoff in front of the Stargate with a group of locals within ten minutes of arriving on another planet.

Regardless, the opportunity was there. He started to turn towards Pendergast to volunteer, but Marks cut in first.

"Colonel, we are receiving FLASH traffic via subspace communications from the inter-dimensional rift…it's from the NMCC, relayed via the SGC and Ancient space station."  
Glancing at his watch and doing some quick math, Daniel worked out that it had only taken thirty minutes for the Pentagon to get back to Pendergasts report.

Which was either very _good_ news, or very _bad_ news.

"What does it say Marks?" Pendergast asked, indicating he didn't mind the dispatch being read publicly. If it was for his eyes only, Marks would have said as such upon receipt. Marks finished the decryption sequence and text scrolled across his screen, the junior officer leaning in to read the communiqué carefully.

"From CO Homeworld Security to CO Prometheus. Prometheus is instructed to remain on station and prevent any hostile passage to the Milky Way. Authorization granted to contact local powers, but hostile intrusion into our own universe to be prevented at all costs, including destruction of Derelict station. Negotiations for reinforcements to your position underway-" Marks broke off suddenly, staring at the screen in disbelief.

The words stubbornly refused to change.

"Uh, the transmission finishes with a message for Doctor Jackson" Marks finished lamely, staring at the archeologist as if he had turned into a Kul Warrior. Daniel glanced at his teammates, then stepped upto the terminal, read the last paragraph and walked off the bridge without so much as a by your leave, causing Pendergast to raise an eyebrow.

"What was _that_ about?" the ships commander demanded. Marks simply shrugged.   
"Message ends, 'Tell Mitchell he owes me fifty bucks'".

**Mark VII Viper # 214  
633 Light years from Caprica.   
Cylon Genocide + 203 days**

"Galactica, this is Colonel Pendergast. We have received authorization to open talks between our peoples, we will shortly be launching a transport with two of our officers on board to meet with your representatives at a place of your choosing".

Starbuck, circling with Kat at a good distance from _Galactica_, just out of easy visual range of the _Prometheus_, let herself relax slightly. The odds of her getting blown out of the sky by this mystery ship had just dropped off, hopefully significantly.

Not that she was going to let her guard down of course. Her helmet speakers crackled slightly, then a new voice interjected itself into her thoughts.

"Starbuck, this is Galactica Actual. Hold your position, then when their transport launches, escort it to the Starboard flight pod, and keep your nose cold."  
"Wilco Actual" she responded, pulling her Viper into a slow turn towards the _Prometheus_, Kat skillfully matching her maneuver. A quick glance down at her weapons board showed her guns were locked down and the targeting systems were powered down, but she pumped her triggers manually…just to make sure.

Gratifyingly, the guns did not fire.

The order to escort it to the Starboard flight pod was interesting. The hanger bays on that side of the ship had been shut down during _Galactica's_ decommissioning and were being used mostly for supply storage, the Battlestar simply didn't have enough Vipers and Raptors to justify powering the bay and using it at this time.

Of course if you wanted to put these people somewhere where the meeting could be controlled without a whole bunch of onlookers or valuable equipment in any crossfire…

"New DRADIS contact" Gaeta broke into her thoughts over the channel. "A single small craft is launching from the Prometheus, silhouette looks identical to the first unknown contact".

_The one that blew a Base Ship to hell with a single weapons strike_? Starbuck wondered, wondering whose idea it was to let one of THOSE things anywhere near the Galactica.

Gunning her thrusters, she arced on an intercept course, keeping her velocity well under full speed and trying to look as 'harmless' as a space superiority fighter could…

**F-302 Interceptor Snake Prime.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005.**

"Vader, Prometheus. Two of Galactica's fighters are vectoring towards Jumper two".  
Aston glanced down at the data link from Prometheus. Sure enough, two yellow icons were slowly moving towards the green Jumper, icon which in turn was trailed by both himself and Mushroom at a discrete distance".  
"Lawrence?"  
"No active sensor emissions or targeting indicators" his weapons officer quickly responded. "And no indications either those fighters or Galactica have detected us". Aston frowned slightly.  
"Mushroom, lets close it up. Call it two klicks back and half down. I don't think we're going to have trouble…but let's not get complacent"  
A double click from his wingman signaled his understand and the two F-302's accelerated after the Puddle Jumper, arcing up and away from their landing bay they had just re-launched from.

**Mark VII Viper # 214  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days**

"Approaching ship, this is Viper 214 call sign Starbuck. We're your escort you to the Battlestar Galactica, please respond on this channel, over".

There was a slight pause, and then a voice did in fact respond.

"Viper 214 this is Prometheus Jumper two call sign Shaft, reading you loud and clear"

Smiling in spite of herself, Starbuck twisted her craft around and brought her engines into a burn to bleed off speed, neatly sliding into position to the right and just slightly ahead of the Jumper as Kat, in a less flashy turn, moved in a hundred meters in front of the Jumper.

"Okay Shaft, just follow the Viper in front of you shaft and she'll lead you right to the Galactica".

"Copy that Starbuck" this 'Shaft' confirmed, smoothly banking after Kat as her thrusters puffed, realigning the Viper towards Galactica. Deciding that this shaft fellow sounded friendly, on an impulse she flicked her wireless back to active.

"So…Shaft…that's an interesting call sign" she commented, going for the first topic that came to mind.

"Well it's sort of a personal joke" the pilot replied amicably.

"Well it wouldn't be referring to any physical attributes would it?" Starbuck asked…and a millisecond later shut her eyes as she realized _exactly_ what she had said.

Laughter came back over the communications link and Starbuck exhaled slightly as she realized the person on the other end hadn't taken offence.

**Battlestar Galactica  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

Colonel Tigh was standing in the middle of the chaos of the starboard hanger's maintenance bay, still listening to the wireless link on a phone as he tried to choreograph three dozen personnel to clear the deck.

Upon hearing Starbucks attempt at communication, he became perfectly still and slowly closed his eyes.

"I'm going to kill her" he promised to no-one in particular.

**Puddle Jumper II.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 11, 2005.**

Mitchell tried to wipe the grin off his face as he exchanged a glance with Daniel who was trying his best to not roll his eyes.  
Well he wasn't a pilot, so Mitchell could forgive him that.

He had little doubt that the crew of the F-302's shadowing them would be getting kicks out of this for months.

"Vader, Mushroom" he ordered, tabbing the subspace communications system, "you're clear to RTB, we'll take it from here".

"You sure boss?" Aston asked with a tone of mock seriousness. "She sounds like she could be trouble".

This time Daniel _did_ roll his eyes.

"You have your orders, scat" Cameron demanded and a few seconds later, the two F-302's banked away from their shadow positions and returned to Prometheus, hopefully undetected as Mitchell followed the two Vipers in silence. Daniel offered little in the way of conversation, still reading through that damn book, trying to absorb as much as possible before they landed.

"Jumper two, you are cleared for landing. Look for the red landing pad"

"Copy that Viper" Mitchell acknowledged, spying the well let red rectangle halfway down the side of the massive cavern. Decelerating, and descending towards it, the two fighters escorting him speed up, waggling their wings and aiming for the far end of the through deck hanger.

"That's looks like a tight fit" Daniel commented looking up from his book.

"Looks like" Mitchell agreed, then flicked a switch and retracted the Jumpers nacelles into the body, before settling down vertically onto the deck. Securing the sub light engines, he locked down the control and headed aft with Daniel. They were in standard field gear, minus the heavy weapons. Their main weapon was a small bracelet each man was wearing, containing a tiny black box with a single red button, the activation stud for a subspace locator beacon.

He wasn't exactly sure how Galactica was going to pressurize the hanger bay, but as the craft jolted and started to descend into the floor, he realized they didn't have do. This had to be an elevator like on an aircraft carrier, there was probably a whole maintenance and common are under the flight deck.

He gave himself two seconds to congratulate himself for figuring it out before activating the jumpers subspace communications array.

"Prometheus, we have landed and are taxing to the hanger deck".  
"I've got you on sensors Cameron" Carters voice replied, she had stayed back on board Prometheus to start a preliminary analysis on the data they had collected, but she was clearly keeping an eye open.  
"Just remember to keep your transponders on you at all times" Pendergast came onto the channel. "If one of you activates it, we'll beam you both back".  
"Copy that" Mitchell nodded, then realized of course Pendergast couldn't see him nodding so it was a wasted effort.

Out the front of the Jumper, the mechanical workings of the hull under the flight deck gave way to a brightly lit maintenance area…filled with people.

Showtime.


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter of Derelict is dedicated to the glorious (and finally complete) 'Unity' saga by Charles Sonnenburg. It is without a doubt the inspiration that drove me to try my hand at really writing a fanfic. It taught me more then anything else NOT to write a piece of fan fiction, but to tell a story, a lesson I am ever grateful for.

If you like ST and SW and you haven't read it, do so. Seriously. Stop reading this, go and read it.

NOW!

So without further delay…and in Honor of Chuck…and with apologies for going a little silly… ;)

**Courscant Orbit.  
Courscant System  
6 days prior to the formation of the Galactic Empire.**

Courscant. A world of contradictions.

A world that produced little - yet produced everything.

A world that required a Galaxy to support it - yet the world that supported the Galaxy.

A world that could start a war - now a world that would end one.

A massive _Venator_ class Star Destroyer descended slowly into low orbit above the capital of the Galactic Republic, her crimson hull shimmering in the light of the system primary setting on the distant horizon.

Diving to skim along the hull of the massive wedge shaped Battleship were two tiny fighters, looking completely inconsequential next to the gigantic Star Destroyer as they flirted with crisp precision around massive Turbolaser batteries; in truth these ships (or more accurately their pilots) were soon to be the nexus of great events that would change the Galaxy forever.

Reaching the ships bow the two ships (which keen observers would identify as Eta-2 Jedi Interceptors) spun and dove, their engines igniting with sapphire explosions of ionization as they powered into the chaotic mass of the battle beyond-

Then it all went dark.

**The Great Amphitheater  
Dakara  
Free Jaffa Territories. **

A roar went up from the thousands of Jaffa in the packed amphitheater as the Battle of Courscant vanished from the makeshift screen mounted against the stone wall at the base of the crater. Lieutenant Colonel Paul Davis quickened his pace as he passed the IMAX scale projectors along the top row of the natural depression that had been converted into an classical Greek style entertainment venue. Moving as fast as he dared in the darkness of night, Davis cleared the projector and returned the picture (and attention of the heavily armed Jaffa around him) to the screen, once again marveling at how surreal the situation he found himself in had to be.

When he had been assigned to the Stargate program, the SGC had been fighting for its life against a foe who could have blasted Earths surface into molten slag at any point, with about the same compunction as he would step on an ant. Earth had somehow survived through those terrifying years thanks to a mixture of skill, focused strategic warfare, some advanced (and rather grey looking) friends…and a hell of a lot of luck.

But never in the Pentagons most optimistic projections had the US Government thought the Goa'uld Empire and social order would fall this fast…and be replaced by a Jaffa society of Star Wars fans. Walking into his first meeting on Dakara with a Jaffa council member and stopping short at the site of two dozen Jaffa staring in rapt attention at Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader dueling in Cloud City, he had quietly admitted to himself that his first off-world posting wasn't quite turning out the way he had anticipated.

It was only in a chance encounter with Daniel Jackson as he started the long task of packing up his office at the Pentagon that he had started to understand that the apparent absurdity of the situation had roots much deeper then he had initially given it credit for.

Jaffa culture, Daniel explained, had existed as a stagnate and subservient slice of the larger Goa'uld culture for millennia, fulfilling a specific role as incubators, population control and ultimately disposable cannon fodder in battle.

Predictably, the Goa'uld had carefully directed their relatively minimal art and culture along those lines. Public entertainment in the forms of poems, plays and stage productions glorifying their Gods was the norm.

Public entertainment that questioned the status quo often led to public executions.

When Teal'c had turned on Aphosis, a team from the CIA in the 'know' on the Stargate program had brought in their best psychologists to try and work up a profile on the alien, before he was allowed to join SG1.

It hadn't been personal; CIA simply had an intelligence agencies initiate distrust of defectors. Their conclusions hadn't been very upbeat.

Teal'c, they had decided, had turned on his 'God' explosively (and impulsively as the later discovery of his left behind family behind showed) as a result of decades of repressed emotion finding a trigger all at once. He held no real belief that the Goa'uld could ever be defeated, was borderline suicidal, and was simply looking for a way to give the preverbal finger to the Goa'uld before dying gloriously.

While the CIA had eventually dropped the 'suicidal' part of his profile, Daniel commented they had been spot on over Teal'c's belief in any end to the Goa'uld stranglehold on the Galaxy. After all, when you got down to it his entire upbringing had stressed the continuity of the Goa'uld dynasty to the end of days. As the former First Prime to Aphosis, he had seen the massive scope of their empires and truly, what could a single person ever hope to accomplish?

Conversely, there was Star Wars.

A story about the most unlikely group of heroes who against all odds, fought and won a great victory against a galaxy spanning Empire. It had struck a chord with Teal'c and as Davis could see in the packed amphitheater, it had done the same with the fledgling Jaffa nation. The tale of the fall and redemption of Anakin Skywalker was relatively simple as far as Earth literature went but the underlying lessons the story told (compared to stories of their infallible God's glorious battles) presented with such a stunning visual impact had simply overwhelmed the Jaffa who had watched it.

A round of cheering broke out from the crowd as the Jedi implausibly leaped from their fighters onto the hanger deck of General Grievous flagship, igniting their lightsabers and proceeding to smite droids with enthusiastic energy. Davis used the distraction to cross the last few meters to the former SG1 member watching the screen with rapt attention.

"Colonel Davis" Teal'c acknowledged the officers presence without as much as a glance away from the screen.

"Teal'c. Sorry for interrupting you, I know you didn't want to be interrupted tonight short of a planetary invasion, but General Landry is calling from Earth".

This cryptic statement _did_ get Teal'c's attention, turning away from the screen to face the Colonel for the first time.

"The Ancient space station?"

"Yes. Prometheus has been involved in an…incident". Davis let the statement hang in the air with a significant look, he really didn't want to get into details in front of everyone in the amphitheater. Teal'c inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement and stood, a simple wave telling several other Jaffa around him to stay and enjoy the movie as he lead Davis out through a second exit without disturbing the picture again. A set of transport rings sent them back the rapidly growing Government sector around the planets Stargate, site of the defeat of the Replicators and formation of a free Jaffa nation.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to offer congratulations earlier on your success today Teal'c" Davis said as the pair walked through the gothic stone corridors. "I hear the vote went down to the wire".

"Bre'tac managed to convince several of Gerak's supporters to support our cause" Teal'c agreed with a curt nod. "While this ensured his motion to rule by a high council was defeated, I would not count it as a complete success as of yet".

"I'd tend to agree, Gerak doesn't strike me as the kind of person to simply give up because he lost one battle" Davis reflected. He had met the conservative Jaffa several times on Dakara and never failed to be unimpressed by the man. He had joined the Jaffa resistance late in the cause, only a matter of months before the battle of Dakara. While he had fought valiantly in the subsequent moping up operations against his former Goa'uld master, he belonged to the school of thought that humans were barely worth his time on a good day and the Tau'ri in particular could not be trusted in the slightest.

It wasn't a terribly logical chain of thought, but then he really wasn't a terribly logical Jaffa.

"He still has his supporters. But his powerbase was always the large numbers of ships and troops at his command. In a true democratic environment, far more Jaffa are against him then for him".

"Well it's nice to know one break every now and again can come our way" the Colonel said dryly as they turned past a pair of Jaffa sentries through a doorway, behind which was a long stairwell down into the planetary command centre. "But I wouldn't count our chickens before they hatch".

"Are you suggesting I should engage in the cultivation of poultry products?" the Jaffa inquired with a raised eyebrow as they descended the last stairs to the blast doors, guarded by yet another pair of sentries at perpetual attention. One thing Davis had noted about Dakara was that with so many Jaffa looking for something to DO, there was no shortage of them standing guard.

"Well actually I…" Davis's attempts to explain the chicken metaphor ended as the two entered the command centre. The room was a large hemisphere with various computer consoles ringing the perimeter manned by a half dozen technicians on duty. In the centre of the room directly in front of them was a master command and control station similar to those found in Goa'uld pyramids, which in turn faced a single screen that looked like it had been lifted from the Pel'tac of a Goa'uld Mothership.

Standing off to the side of the master command and control console, and reason for Teal'c halting so abruptly, was Gerak,

"Teal'c" Garek said in greeting, not quite able to keep his voice in a level tone in the presence of the Jaffa who had derailed his bid to rule their young nation. "I am surprised to see you here tonight".

"An incoming message from Earth demands my attention" Teal'c explained succinctly, but Davis could feel the air between them crackling with animosity.

"Really? How interesting. It would not, by chance, have anything to do with your sending two of our Ha'Tak to a remote star system, would it? One that if I am not mistaken, contains the Tauri vessel Prometheus and a supposedly derelict station built by the Ancients?"

Davis managed to keep his expression neutral, but he surprised Gerak was so well informed. It wasn't as if Earth had tried (or generally DID try) to make a secret of their ships locations to the Jaffa, but as far as he knew Teal'c had only shared the information about the Ancient Space station with Bre'tac (who was genetically incapable of betraying Teal'c), Raknor (who was commanding the small detachment of ships) and a supposedly friendly council member.

Perhaps not so friendly after all.

"It would" Teal'c said, without elaboration.

"Ah. I see" Gerak nodded politely, tapping several buttons to close down his console before stepping closer to the newcomers. "And you are not willing to tell me what the…significance of this station is? After all, my friend, we live in a democracy now, do we not? Unilateral action is something that is not undertaken lightly in such a system, from what I remember of your most _rousing_ speech today."

"I will explain my actions at the council session tomorrow. However as a member of the provisional council I do have authority over deployment of-"

"Teal'c, Teal'c!" Gerak smiled like an old friend. "I would never question your loyalty" -Gerak declared in a tone that suggested he was doing just that- "I was simply hoping that tomorrow, at the council meeting, you and your Tau'ri friends" Gerak gestured at Davis "will give an explanation about what they are doing so far away from Earth that is so critical".

"The council will receive such an explanation" Teal'c replied in a level tone.

"Excellent. Until tomorrow?" Gerak commented lightly, inclining his head towards Teal'c who returned the bow, before he pushed and to the stairwell, his footsteps slowly fading into the night.

"What was _that_ about?" Davis asked the room.

"I am unsure" Teal'c responded. "But I have little doubt it is something to ultimately further Gerak's own agenda". Giving the exit one last look, Teal'c turned back to face Davis. "For now however, General Landry is waiting".

Teal'c strode across the room to a Jaffa who nodded respectfully and with a few adjustments, materialized the face of General Landry onto a screen. With a last glance at the console Gerak had been using, Davis moved to join him. Had he looked closer, he might have caught the wire frame image of a massive grey space station rotating against a backdrop of stars, before it vanished.

**Cloud Nine.  
633 Light years from Caprica.  
Cylon Genocide + 2-3 days.**

As the former terrorist, political prisoner, mutineer and current politician Tom Zarek entered the comfortable mid sized office room the Quorum of Twelve had commandeered for its meetings, he let the calm, affable look that he had had presented to the hoard of reporters outside fall away, replaced by the expression of a man whose universe had just inverted in the last hour.

"Can someone tell me what in all that's holy and cursed on Kobol; _what _is going on?" Zarek demanded without preamble, moving to his accustomed position at the head of the long table where the other eleven members of the Quorum were waiting.

"How should _we_ know Tom?" Sarah Porter asked with an irritated look on her face. "Galactica is in a complete lockdown. None of us have been able to contact any of our sources on board…I don't suppose _you've_ had any success?"

The way she said it was almost a challenge Tom noted. He made a mental note to talk to her later about the proper level of decorum to maintain when talking to him…but for now, he didn't have the answer to her question would have preferred.

"None". Gaius Baltar -to whom Porter was no doubt referring- was thus far not returning his calls. It was more then a little irritating to Zarek who had risked much to help out the erratic genius countless times after he had taken the Vice Presidency from him. He would be sure to remind the little man of how much he owed his benefactors the next time they met.

Still. He doubted the communications silence from Galactica was the Doctors idea, Adama and Roselyn were no doubt taking great pains to carefully control the first meeting with the apparently real members of the thirteenth tribe.

It was _exactly_ what he would have done if he was in their place. But he wasn't in their place…that being the whole problem of course.

"Okay, okay okay" Tom sighed, leaning against his chair and rubbing his eyes slightly to clear his thoughts. "So we're not going to be able to be there at this first meeting" he said, standing back up and starting to work through his logic as he paced towards the huge floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the massive tracts of artificial fields, in the process of being converted to farmland. "_But_, we're the only ones talking right now" he continued, an idea slowly forming in his mind. Roslin and Adama were far to busy to pay any attention to the fleet he was sure, and that _did_ put him in an interesting position…

"Okay so we're talking, but no-one is listening Tom" Marshall Bagot pointed out with a somewhat sarcastic tone. "Adama and Roslin are saying frack all to the questions being blasted at Galactica and no-one is stupid enough to try and talk to this Earth ship without _their_ permission. All we can do is stand around and _look_ like we know what is going on".

Zarek smiled slightly as Marshall's eyes widened, as he realized what he had just said. "Exactly".

"Tom! Can you tell us what the Earth ship-"

"Is there any news about how far away Earth-"

"When will the press be allowed access to the-"

"Do we have any news about losses from the Cylon attack-"

"Has the President given any indication if these people from Earth will take us in and help defend us from the Cylons?"

That final question delivered by one of the reporters in the front row, D'Anna Biers if Zerak remembered correctly, could not have been better timed for his purposes. Holding up his hands for calm as the remaining members of the Quorum spread out to his left and right, it echoed across the entire fleet population still listening in, starting to chip away at the jubilation and drain the excitement that had erupted with the revelation of the Prometheus's identity.

It wasn't going to stop people hoping of course, nor did Tom want them to…but a little doubt could be a useful thing…if properly directed.

"Please, please. First off, I would ask that we give a moment of silence to the God's for this victory today, we could have jumped to our dooms in this system today" –and everyone of course knew who had been responsible for jumping them into the middle of a Cylon trap- "if not for a miracle. As was prophesied, we have found our long lost brothers and sisters of the thirteenth tribe. Right now, over on the Galactica" – re-emphasizing the Military taking control of the process and dictating policy, an issue still very fresh in the minds of people in the fleet- "the President and Commander are writing the future of our people-"

"But _will_ the people have a say in this future?" Biers once again broke in to the annoyance of the rest of the press (mostly because they hadn't thought to ask that question first), almost causing a smile to flicker across Tom's face.

Instead, Sarah walked forward and edged in front of Tom, closer to the forest of microphones. The somewhat militant representative of Gemenon was the perfect spokesmen to answer this question in Tom's mind. _Everyone _knew she was an ultra conservative who had been one of the strongest supporters of Roslin and her religious crusade.

Of course, Tom knew that like most religious conservatives, anything that threatened the status quo enough would almost automatically cause her to go on the warpath.

"As the elected representatives of the fleet" – a not too subtle dig at the fact that Roslin hadn't been elected, simply appointed by a doomsday program – "we will be leaving shortly for the Galactica. As you have said, the people _must_ have their say in this " – neatly appointing the Quorum opposed to the President as the guardians of the peoples interests – "but as we don't know how long we have until the Cylons return" – and nothing like a little imminent threat to make people act rashly– "we must cross over to Galactica as quickly as possible. Thank you and may the God's watch over you all".

**Battlestar _Galactica_ ****  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

A never ending stream of curses and insults directed at the crew on the hanger deck, the Galactica's distant Combat Information Centre and the Lords of Kobol poured from the mouth of Colonel Saul Tigh, vowing retribution and asskickings across the board if everything wasn't ready for the arrival of the Earth ship in the next ten seconds.

Tigh didn't simply understand the adage that 'if the crew likes the XO, he's not doing his job'.

He_ lived_ it.

Colonel William Adama on the other hand stood in the middle of the maelstrom like a rock in a stormy sea, his calm expression belaying the racing thoughts inside him as he regarded the flight deck elevator at the end of the maintenance bay.

"Well they're almost here" Roslin commented from next to him as the personnel slowly started to fall into place in the parade, 'encouraged' to do so as quickly as possible by the good Colonel. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that we're actually about to come face to face with people from Earth".

"That's assuming they _are_ people from Earth" Adama replied, nodding to the Marine fire team who were falling into position next to where Colonel Tigh would return to.

"You seriously can't believe they're Cylons?" Roslin asked, directing her gaze away from the activity around her and at him for the first time. "Not after what they've done today, what they did to that Cylon fleet?".

Adama shook his head as a phone on the pillar next to him -the one Tigh had set up as a hotline to the CIC- started buzzing.

"No I don't. But I don't necessarily trust them implicitly either".

"You can't be serious" Gaius Baltar put in, clearly put out that _everyone_ was ignoring him. "After what they did for us you would still refuse to trust them?"

"It's because of what they did to the Cylons that I want to move so carefully" Adama corrected him as he pulled the phone from its cradle.

"You can't possibly suspect-"

"Actually I don't Doctor" Adama interrupted him. "But with the level of firepower they've been throwing around, a degree of caution is advisable" he stated bluntly, before pushing the transmission button on the phone and lifting it to his head. "Adama, SITREP"

"This is Kelly" Galactica's third in command responded immediately. "The transport from Prometheus has just landed upstairs on the elevator. It's a tight fit but LSO is confident she'll be fine to go straight down".

"Good, stand by" Adama ordered, placing his hand over the microphone as he searched for his XO, finally spotting him a short distance away harassing a group of deckhands who were not clearing a final set of crates fast enough for him.

"Colonel?"

Tigh looked up and backed away towards his CO, leaving a withering glare for the deckhands who moved even faster to get their job finished, knowing full well what would happen if he came back and they weren't finished…

"We've got three Marine fire teams on overwatch, one in here with us" Tigh started without preamble. "The deck is clear and Tyrol is just finishing rigging airlocks on three of the Viper tubes. You give the word he'll override the inner and outer doors and vent the entire deck to space…just in case".

"Good work, I'm going to bring them down now, get everyone in place".

"Good as done" Tigh nodded, spinning back to face the crew. "ALRIGHT, they're coming down, lets move it into formation, yes that means YOU! TODAY people, Cally, stop Frakking around with that and get in line, thank YOU!"

"Are you sure we had to bring him along?" Roslin muttered, buttoning her jacket back up and steadying herself for the diplomatic encounter of a lifetime. She felt the slightest tremor

Adama managed to kill the smile trying to work its way onto his face at that comment, lifting the phone once again as the last stragglers jumped into position.

"Kelly, send them down".

"Roger that…and…wait one Sir" Kelly hesitated suddenly, sounding both irritated and exasperated, "Starbuck just called in, the Quorum of Twelve just signaled they are on approach with a group of the press".

The Captain may as well have said 'Cylon assault force' for all the loathing in his voice in regards to the newscasters presence on the incoming ship.

"Starbuck wants to know if she should chase them back to Cloud Nine?"

Adama shut his eyes and eased his fingers under his glasses, trying to rub away some of the aches that had settled in over the last hour, marshaling his patience and forcing away the irritation.

"No, let them land, then escort them all somewhere and hold them. We'll deal with them later, but don't let them anywhere _near_ the starboard hanger" a sudden wave of nervous energy passed through the crowd, Adama looked up to see the top of the flight elevator finally lowering into the bay with the Earth ship. "If they complain too much, toss them in the Brig. Adama out".

**Puddle Jumper Snake Null. ****  
Docked.  
Battlestar _Galactica_ ****  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

"Now that's a welcoming party"

"That's a welcoming party they're all armed to the teeth, or, that's a welcoming party…because…it's a welcoming party?"

"Ah. The infamous SG-1 wit. I'm going to have to work on getting up to speed on that".

Doctor Daniel Jackson suppressed a grin as he carefully placed the Ancient (or Alterian depending on your point of view) book back into the protected compartment in the rear of the Puddle Jumper. Given that the book was the single record of the Pegasus Ancients history between their return from Atlantis and eventual ascension, the book should have been back on Earth in his office at the SGC, with every page being run through a scanner.

Unfortunately it was specifically because the book WAS the only record of events -including this alternate universe- of the Ancients that Daniel was keeping it on hand. He was easily Earths pre-eminent expert on the Ancients (hell he had even hung around with them on the higher plains a few times) but he knew the wider society of Earths anthropologists to whom he belonged to would crucify him when the Stargate program went public, _if_ he let anything happen to the priceless history text.

So it was perhaps with exaggerated care he placed the book into its storage compartment and made a mental note that when he got back to the Prometheus, he would use the digital scanner in the ships tiny office to get a permanent record of all of the pages.

Just in case.

"So" Daniel started as he stood up. "First time in a first contact".

"Yeah so how's it going so far? Average?"

"Hmm…more or less" Daniel decided. "The welcoming party is a good sign".

"It is?" Mitchell asked with a raised eyebrow, pulling his sidearm out of its thigh holster to double check the weapons safety was on and the weapon was uncocked, before slotting it back in place.

"Well unless they're all armed to the teeth" Daniel clarified, standing and taking hold of the earpiece dangling from his radio on a plastic strap. While he preferred the boom/microphone systems used in Earths growing fleet of starships (as well as on Atlantis and at the SGC for that matter), the older style earpiece was a much more rugged field design, with the power and range to transmit over dozens of kilometers of distance.

Of course, if Sam had done her work, it wouldn't have to transmit anything like that far. Twisting the transmit sensitivity to its lowest level; he flicked on the power.

"Testing one two-"

"We read you five by Doctor Jackson" Marks commented back from the distant Prometheus almost immediately. A subspace link between the Jumpers communications system and that on the Prometheus had been set up by Carter, on the theory that a subspace signal between the two ships would be impossible to intercept by the ships around Galactica. According to Marks (who was continuing to monitor communications intercepts), the entire fleet was understandably going increasingly wild with the news that Prometheus was from Earth and had just delivered a smack down on an all out Cylon attack fleet, apparently with minimal effort.

The lack of any official position on the battle and sudden first contact from the Colonial Government was starting the rumor mill flying…and with close to fifty thousand people who had little to do but wait…

Daniel knew they had to get control of the situation as quickly (but carefully) as possible. In the absence of any new information, if the press in this fleet was anything like that back on Earth, speculation would rapidly be perceived as fact. Already according to Marks, it looked like different parts of the Colonial Government were jockeying for position, so they needed to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Okay it looks like we've stopped" Mitchell stated, pushing himself off the cockpit bulkhead as the jumper came to a halt.

"Ready?" Daniel asked as he also stood, double checking his shoelaces were tied. He ruefully recalled one incident six years ago when running late, he had run into the gate room and up the gate to join the rest of SG1, then immediately tripped over when he had reached the distant planet.

The impression he had made on the locals hadn't _quite_ been one of awe.

"As I'll ever be" Mitchell replied, not quite hiding either his enthusiasm or nerves over the situation they were about to walk into, but clearly impatient none the less.

"Alright" Daniel exhaled, slapping a control next to the rear bulkhead.

With a whine, the bulkhead unlocked and started to lower.

**National Military Command Centre  
The Pentagon.  
Washington DC**

Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill's footsteps echoed loudly through the deserted corridors of the Pentagon as he made his way up staircases, through passageways and down hallways all but devoid of human life.

That wasn't do say it was COMPLETELY deserted. The constant checkpoints he had to swipe his card through were guarded by no nonsense Marines whose side arms were no doubt loaded, but for the most part, Jack found himself alone with his thoughts.

Daniel, Sam and Cameron Mitchell were off having what no doubt was yet another crazy adventure that had eventually led to an all out brawl of a space battle according to Pendergast's contact report, followed by meeting an apparently advanced group of humans and killer robots of doom.

He on the other hand was heading in for a 'chat' with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Presidents National Security Advisor…

He made a mental note to find some way to irritate Daniel in exchange. The Atlantis expedition's recovery of several ZPMs, one of which was now installed at Stargate command had unfortunately negated his primary threat of not letting him go to Atlantis, he'd have to work on some other revenge over the next few days.

At the least it would give him something to think about in his office that didn't require ten different forms and three different meetings with various contractors…

"Jack" General Francis Maynard called in greeting as he passed the final checkpoint into the large command centre, waving him over to a conference room off the main floor. Jack had always liked the man who had worked his way up from a buck private to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs on nothing more then hard work and raw talent. He had a no-nonsense approach to the military that had served him through two different administrations and a ferocious loyalty to those under him in the chain of command. Jack knew from General Hammond that the man hadn't even hesitated in butting heads with newly elected Vice President Kinsley in defense of SG1 and the SGC, regardless of what making an enemy of Kinsley would do for his carrier.

For that alone, Jack would have respected him without question. It took big brass ones to go head to head with someone like Kinsley, even with the support of the rest of the Chiefs of staff.

He also, for reasons unknown to Jack, held him as something of an equal at these meetings, despite outranking him by a good two stars and several years in service. Jack could only guess it was because of his frontline experience at Stargate command, but whatever the reason, it sure did make it easier to speak his mind.

"Sorry to call you back in Jack" Maynard said with a wave at a spare seat in the room that had once served to reveal the Stargate program to the other permanent members of the UN Security Council. "But everything is moving so fast we have to start playing catch-up tonight".

"Of course Sir" Jack replied, taking a cup of coffee from a navy steward and easing into his seat next to the Chief of Naval Operations. "The hours may be lousy…but it's much quieter".

A polite chuckle worked its way around the room as Maynard nodded to the two Marines guarding the door, who retreated and sealed the conference room. Picking up a remote off the table with his place opposite the large video screen, he pointed and clicked, causing the unsmiling face of the National Security Advisor, Doctor Helen Turner to materialize.

"Gentlemen" she said as Maynard took "The President is still somewhere over Europe, Air Force One isn't due back in Washington until zero five thirty tomorrow. So when he gets home, what exactly am I going to tell him his military has been up to?"

Collectively, the Generals in the room cringed. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

Deep under the Pentagon was a fiber optical network hub that connected the command centre to other buildings in Washington that may well have had reason to be at times connected to the massive C4I network that linked the US military together. A series of routers sat like electronic traffic cops in their aluminum racks, taking packets from one location and sending them off to another with a high degree of efficiency.

What could not be seen however was the handful of extra lines of code that had been inserted into their firmware by a senior technician contracted to upgrade the Pentagons communications infrastructure over the last couple of years.

That he was now living like a minor King on an island in the South Pacific, with a woman he had dumped his wife for, was something the Department of Defense didn't really care about, though in hindsight they would wish they had.

The lines of code carefully sniffed the packets destination address and decided it fell within its TRUE conditions, copying it and sending it off to another router in the rack before sending the original package on, a process taking perhaps a millisecond.

The copied packet was bounced around a series of networks until finally it ended up (with countless other copied packets) in a senior executives office in downtown LA. Two figures, one a strikingly women and one a roguish looking man carefully fingering his beard watched with interest as the Generals squirmed under the interrogation of the Presidents right hand women for a quarter of an hour before the link was severed.

"Well this wasn't expected" the Women stated blandly, turning to look around the half finished office at the man next to her. "This may distract our friends under NORAD for long enough to accelerate to the next phase of operations".

"True" the man thoughtfully replied, glancing around at the half finished office and trying to hide his smile. On Earth for less then a day and already the risk was starting to pay off. "How many assets do we have remaining at Area 51 we can move into position on that Space station?"

"Unfortunately agent Barret has been most persistent in his purges of people loyal to the Trust" the women frowned in annoyance. "They have a saying here on Earth. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. The incident with Osiris's ship was the last straw for the humans, they were quite thorough in going through Groom Lake and removing those assets the trust had in deep cover".

"Pity. But there are other possibilities. These Cylons interest me".

"I could order some of our-"

"No, I don't think so. I will look into this myself…after all" Ba'al smiled, "if you can't trust yourself…who can you trust?"

**Battlestar _Galactica_ ****  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

"Alright, here we go" Tigh muttered as the strange looking ship (or more accurately the travel pallet from the elevator carrying the ship) came to a halt in front of the four humans comprising the welcoming party for the Earth delegation.

Well four humans and one Angel from God.

"Have you ever seen the future Gaius?" Six asked softly into his ear. Standing on his left at the end of the formation of himself, Roslin, Adama and Tigh, Six's eyes hungrily tracked the ship as it slowly came to a halt, her expression one of near reverence as if the moment was all but sacred to her.

While he was hardly inclined to think of this moment as a religious experience, her question did annoy him. Mostly because it awakened that mocking voice in the back of his mind once again.

_There was one time you saw the future Gaius, shortly before a nuclear device exploded outside your house. Unlike billions of other people, _YOU_ saw it coming but of course it was too late then for them, no?_

Ruthlessly, he pushed the voice back into the rear of his mind. He didn't have time for stupid thoughts on events he had little to do with, nor could have stopped if he wished to.

"Oh that's not quite what I meant" Six replied with a smile, leveraging off him and walking towards the Earth ship, her gorgeous legs ruffling through her red dress as she approached the burnished bronze hull of the spaceship.

"Keep away from that!" Gaius blurted out as she lightly ran her fingers down the elegant groves along its flanks, flashing a wicked grin at his sudden outburst.

"I hadn't actually planed to move any closer Doctor" the President replied from next to him with a look that combined confusion and irritation splendidly well. Her eyes however were clearly asking if he needed to withdraw from the welcoming line before he completely destroyed this ever so delicate moment.

But if he had learned anything since the day he had come aboard Galactica, it was how to jump back from sudden surprise 'visitations' in the middle of conversations.

"I'm sorry Madam President, just thinking out loud. I…well, I think in this kind of a situation we should follow the lead of our guests rather then the other way around. We really don't want to intimidate them…given what we've seen them do today".

"A fair enough point" she agreed, though her piercing eyes suggested she wasn't quite sure of his explanation but going with it anyway as she turned towards the pair of fully armed Marines next to Tigh…thus missing seeing her Vice President whispering towards at the hull of the Earth ship with an alarmed expression

"Commander?" Roslin asked Galactica's CO as she shifted her focus towards the soldiers next to Colonel Tigh.

Adama frowned.

"Madam President they have to be here, that isn't negotiable"

"Oh I agree Bill, but do they have to hold their weapons like _that?_"

Turning his head with a little confusion showing on his face, Adama glanced at Sergeant Hadrian, the ships Master at Arms, who was holding her battle rifle at port arms with her finger only millimeters away from the trigger.

Following her lead, so was the second Marine beside her.

And the two behind them.

In fact the entire company of armed troops were clearly on a razors edge. And while Adama appreciated their vigilance, he admitted the President had a point.

"At ease" he ordered the quartet. Somewhat grudgingly, the quartet let their rifles muzzles fall to face the deck and their hands move back away from the triggers. It was clear the Sergeant didn't like the idea, but she wasn't exactly going to dispute the order.

She had learned the hard way about locking horns with Galactica's master.

Adama turned his gaze back on the Earth ship. There was something almost hypnotic about its bronzed surface with the groves and trenches running down its flanks. They almost perfectly hid the tiny cresses that marked where the engine nacelles he knew the craft possessed had retracted into the hull.

In fact, as he studied the ship, he started to realize there was absolutely no external protrusion of any kind present on its hull. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew this ship (or one essentially identical to it) had blown a Cylon Basestar into an expanding navigation hazard, he would have been inclined to call it an unarmed civilian transport.

He had never found something military that looked so…harmless…to his mind anyway.

In fact the stately elegant design of the ship when combined with the terrifying power he KNEW it wielded started to suggest that Earth had advanced quite a bit technologically beyond the vast majority of humanity who they had left behind. Yet again his mind drifted as he recalled the legends, myths and stories surrounding Earth and the thirteenth tribe of Man (a topic into which he had done significant research after the Cylon Genocide), but still nothing new came to mind. How a splinter of humanity had advanced so rapidly beyond current colonial technology was a disturbing question…one he intended to ask as soon as diplomacy allowed.

A sudden click and a whir made his heart jump - though he managed to keep his expression calm - and before his eyes, the rear of the ship unlocked and steadily started to fold down. He realized in surprise that what he had taken to be the aft bulkhead of the ship was lowering…to form a ramp.

Which meant the interior of the ship was almost entirely hollow, rather then crammed full of technology as he had expected.

He exchanged a glance with Tigh, whose expression clearly suggested he was thinking along the same lines.

_Way_ more advanced then they were.

The ramp lowered until it made contact with the deck with a dull thud and everything went silent, except for the noise of Roslin taking a deep breath next to him.

And with only a slight pause for dramatic effect (or perhaps to take their own deep breaths), two human men descended the ramp, striding slowly but confidently as they moved out onto the hanger bay.

_Dear Lord please don't let me fuck up_ were the worlds that came to Cameron Mitchell's mind as he stepped onto the deck of the Battlestar _Galactica_. Alan Shepard's infamous prayer before being blasted into orbit on the first US manned spaceflight was strangely appropriate he thought, for his first ever off world contact mission with Stargate Command.

Daniel Jackson on the other hand moved with a practiced ease that Cameron envied, one he knew only came from close to a decade of off world experience with countless cultures on countless planets. Despite the fact that he was getting close to putting SG1 back together, a part of him irrationally resented them their legendary adventures that he could never participate in. When Earth had been a brand new player on the Galactic stage, SG1 had fought God's and grappled with legends on a weekly basis.

_Still_, he thought as he turned away from the Jumper and towards the line of waiting people, _even SG1 has never been in a situation _quite _as strange as this_ he thought to himself.

As the jumper ramp obediently started to raise itself to the surprise of several of the people in the crowd, his eyes scanned over the ranks of personnel standing before him and quickly locked in on the row to his right. Two men, the taller of whom _screamed _'senior brass' stood to his left, a man and the women he presumed were civilians to his right…and standing out like an airbase landing beacon, a fire team of troops (refreshingly carrying rather conventional looking firearms) watching him and Daniel like hawks.

But their guns were pointed at the floor, which he took as a plus.

Stepping to his right and coming to a halt in front of the central officer, he decided this could only be Commander Adama. A theory confirmed when the man carefully took a half step forward to close the gap with Daniel and himself. The man wore the uniform well, but it was the air he carried himself with that gave him away; a proud bearing that demanded attention and commanded respect.

"On behalf of the crew of the Galactica" he said, "welcome aboard. I am William Adama, commanding officer and commander of the Colonial fleet".

"Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Stargate Command" Cameron replied, instinctively echoing the military formality Adama had opened with. "Currently assigned to the Battle Cruiser Prometheus". Remembering the archeologist standing next to him, Cameron turned and gestured slightly. "And may I present Doctor Daniel Jackson, also currently assigned to the Prometheus" he said carefully the natural sounding code phrase letting those back on the Prometheus now that the initial contact was positive and they could take his finger off the emergency recall button.

Adama took Daniels offered hand in a firm grip, and then strangely twisted his wrist to hold the hands one above the other, shook hands, and then let go. Cameron made a mental note of the gesture, even as he admired how smoothly Daniels hand moved with it without the slightest hint of hesitation, his long years of experience with strange cultures standing him in good stead.

"Doctor, a pleasure" Adama said as he let go of Daniels hand, his eyes flicking back to Mitchell. "And a pleasure to meet you as well Colonel" he continued, extending his hand which Mitchell took, noting the firm and unwavering grip of the impressive man, before he let go and stepped back slightly, turning to his left.

"My executive officer, Colonel Saul Tigh" Adama continued, gesturing the balding man standing next to him with the glower of deep suspicion forward.

"Colonel" Mitchell said politely, extending his hand. Tigh hesitated for a half second, then took the hand as if not entirely sure it wouldn't bite.

For some reason, he reminded him of General O'Neill…

"Colonel" Tigh responded, shaking briefly then letting go and turning to Daniel. "And Doctor Jackson…medical Doctor?"

"Uh no" Daniel said as he extended his hand to Tigh, which the Colonel took with what appeared to be slightly less suspicion on his face then when he had exited the jumper. "It's an academic title, well titles actually" he amended as he let go of the Colonels hand.

"Really? Might one ask what your area of expertise is?" the third man in the line suddenly broke in, stepping forward slightly, to better close the distance with the rest of the group, ignoring a look from Adama as he closed in.

"This is Doctor Gaius Baltar, Vice President of the Twelve Colonies" Adama explained the faintly annoyed expression on his face vanishing quickly as the Commander controlled his irritation.

Tigh's expression of discontent however increased tenfold and he quickly switched targets from the newcomers to the Doctor, pumping enough energy through his gaze, in Mitchells opinion, to blow a hole through Galacticas flight pod.

However either Baltar didn't see the look or he ignored it, taking a step even closer as he edged in front of the women in the line next to Adama.

"Actually I'm qualified in both archeology and anthropology" Daniel responded cautiously as he read the sudden tension, deciding to answer the question as quickly as possible and get off the tangent.

A slightly condescending look flashed for a heartbeat across Baltar's face before it vanished behind a mask of polite smugness. The interesting thing about being an anthropologist was that you learned all about body language. Baltar's said that he suddenly found Daniel far less impressive then his opinion of himself.

_This man would be trouble_ Daniel thought to himself.

"Be careful Gaius" Six suddenly commented, stepping out from behind Jackson with a curious smile on her face as she lightly ran her fingers across the mans shoulders, studying him intently . "Don't let your ego get in the way of God's work…this man is the key to the salvation of our child". Turning to stare at Gaius, her expression melted suddenly into a chillingly direct look that almost made Gaius take an involuntary step backwards. "He has a strength that you can only dream of, has seen things you could never imagine and has been places you will never experience". Stepping even closer towards him, again he had to resist the urge to step away.

"Pride is a mortal Sin Gaius, don't let _yours_ turn you from the path you must walk".

"Ah...well…that's quite interesting I'm sure" Baltar responded to Daniel, suddenly sounding somewhat contrite to the archeologist, stepping backwards to his original place in line. "I'm sure we each have many questions for each other, as one academic to another, but that can wait for another forum I am sure. So, uh, Commander?"

"Thank you Doctor" Adama replied with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice, glaring the Doctor back into place before turning towards the woman waiting in line, who had quietly and patiently waited to be acknowledged. She looked tired and drawn to Daniel, but her eyes still shone with energy and alertness as she stepped forward to place herself next to Commander Adama.

As Laura Roslin eased forward towards the two men in the military fatigues, she directed considerable willpower to try and stay her trembling hands. It wasn't the fact that the future of humanity might ride on what she did next that was disturbing her –not that it made it easier- but the side effects of the chamalla leaf extract she been taking in increasingly unsafe doses to remain lucid and focused. The sad fact was that as the cancer advanced through her body, the drug was becoming increasingly less effective in suppressing the cancers symptoms and starting a cycle of forcing her to increase the dosage on a daily basis. While such a high dosage taken over an extended period wasn't exactly conductive to long term health, it amused her in a rather macabre way that there was now a race inside her body between the cancer and chamalla to claim final victory over her corpse.

Still she had prayed and prayed night after night until she fell unconscious with exhaustion She had pleaded with the Lords of Kobol to give her strength enough to see humanity safely out of the reach of the Cylons, no matter the personal costs to herself. She had taken risks, oh how had she taken risks! She had betrayed Adama, gone back on her word, put the very future of those she was trying to save in moral jepordy…it was almost as if, indeed it could be nothing BUT divine intervention, that Adama had simply forgiven her for everything she had done to him. Together, they had found the road to Earth against all odds, which had unerringly led them to this system…where a ship from Earth had saved appeared from nowhere and delivered them from annihilation….

Just a little longer, she pleaded. I'm so close, just grant me the strength to get our people to safety, then I can rest.

Exhaling, she commanded her hands to be still and for a minor miracle, they obeyed as she raised her right hand.

"Doctor Jackson, Colonel Mitchell…" she said with a smile that hid her struggle to find words for the moment in history. "Words, I think, would be completely useless to express the gratitude we feel towards you and your people, for what you have done for us today". Despite feeling a little silly at her flowery speech, she pushed ahead, not wanting to loose momentum. "We came to this system searching for the path to Earth…and against all odds and after so many centuries, the Gods have brought us back together. On behalf of the colonial fleet, I want to thank you…thankyou so very much. This day is nothing short of a miracle from the Lords of Kobol themselves".

Alarm bells started to ring inside Daniels head at the almost reverent way the President thanked the group of Ancients who had once explored and lived in this universe. Long experience with SG1 and the unfortunate -if necessary- shattering of local beliefs in the Goa'uld had taught him the warning signs to look out for in terms of religious beliefs.

He rapidly decided the Hanger Bay wasn't the best place to break the news about the reality of the 'Lords of Kobol'. He remembered where a similar religious discussion on Brendisa had led to…

Evidently Mitchell had come to the same conclusion.

"It was our pleasure Madam President to have been of help" Mitchell smiled, taking her hand briefly. "_But_ I think it's safe to say we have a _lot_ to talk about…and a couple of thousand years of history to catch up on…" Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, he turned to Adama again. "Uh, our ship really isn't that big…I don't suppose there is somewhere we can-"

"We have a conference room that should be set up by now" the Commander assured him, glancing towards the pack of men and women behind the small group. "Chief, stand down".

"At ease" Tyrol repeated the order, causing the enlisted personnel and sprinkling of officers to ease their stances…and Tyrol to carefully power down the remote transmitter in his pocket.

He really didn't want to blow everyone out and airlock when everything was going well.

"If you'll come with me Doctor, Colonel, we have a lot to talk about and not much time".

Mitchell frowned.

"You're expecting another attack?"

"Worse" Adama grimaced. "The Press".

**Cylon Resurection Ship.  
660 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Victory + 203 days.**

"An accident."

The statement from a Three at the head of the table echoed from the metal walls and decks of the room deep inside the resurrection ship, as if refusing to fade for all the derisive disbelief it contained. Under her gaze, a Six, an Eight and a Five fidgeted in an all too human way as if afraid to draw anymore attention to themselves then absolutely necessary.

The Three held her gaze on them for a few seconds before turning to her sister sitting next to her.

"This is not part of the scenario we anticipated".

"The intervention could not have been anticipated" the Six across from her protested with the edge in her voice so common to her kind.

"And so the best solution was to ignore their opening message and open fire? Are you defective? Perhaps you need to be downloaded again!"

Six bristled at the implications of her statement, but was stayed from responding by the Eight next to her.

"This is pointless. The attack failed but the end result can fit with our scenario. The child is safe, indeed with less to fear from us thanks to these newcomers, the humans will be less inclined to harm her".

"Or they may be inclined to band together, turn the fleet around, head back to reclaim their worlds!" Six snapped.

"Impossible" the Five interjected from next to her. "Their fleet is all but destroyed. Only Galactica, Pegasus and a few scattered irrelevant units remain. Their probability of success in even a marginal victory against one of our task groups is-"

"Radically increased thanks to that ship you decided to take on!" Three snapped. With a thought, the screen on the wall snapped on, with footage of the ship identified as Prometheus withstanding everything the Base Stars threw at it and gunning down Raider squadrons like so many irritants.

"Yet this proves conclusively the accuracy of our scenario" Six pointed out with a slightly smug expression, changing the image with a thought to a close up of the small ship that had been first discovered, its elegant lines and shape burned into the genetic memory of the Cylons from the source that had started them on their long campaign".

"The ship proves nothing in of itself" the second Three replied in a somewhat more grudging tone. "It may prove we are on the right track, but it also would appear to prove that your stupidity in engaging this ship may have started a war we have little chance of winning".

"_You_ doubt the scenario?" Six asked in amazement. "Has not the destiny of humanity and the Cylons been written? Is it not coming true at every turn?"

"I do not" Three instantly replied, her temper up again. "But my concern is ensuring the Cylons remain to take their rightful place at the end of history by making sure YOU don't destroy us all. Do not question my faith, I do not".

"Then how can you know your own faith?" a new voice that some in the Colonial fleet might identify as from Brother Cavil interjected from the shadows, walking into the light and stopping conversation cold

"Without doubt, how can one have faith? Any being be it us or the humans, can have faith in a vacuum. Without constant testing of it, without constant questioning of it which reaffirms it, blind faith is useless". Staring at the silent room, he smiled slightly.

"We do not require blind faith. Only that you believe what you see and know to be true."

**Battlestar _Galactica_ ****  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.**

"I'm afraid we haven't had much time to set up facilities for this visit" Roslin apologized as she led the party into Galactica's conference room. "But it's the best we could do on short notice".

The room had been hastily reorganized from typical layout of a half square of tables facing a podium to a pair of straight lines that faced each other down the length of the room. Adama led his delegation to one side, Doctor Jackson and Colonel Mitchell walked to the other and sat down. It was in Adamas mind a distressingly informal layout for such a pivotal moment on history, but it would suffice.

On the other hand from this room the Quorum of Twelve (and the press team they had brought on HIS ship without so much as a 'by your leave') would have to cross six major bulkheads and a dozen marines to get here. In the end he decided the tradeoff was worth it.

"So" Doctor Jackson started when everyone had settled down in place and the pair of Marines in the room had closed the door. "Where do we begin?"

"Well personally I'd like to start with some information on these…Cylons you called them?" Mitchell asked as Daniel reached into a vest pocket and removed a notepad and pen, ignoring the tensing of the Marines by the door as he did so.

"You've never run into the Cylons before?" Roslin asked with a raised eyebrow, the expression on her face all business, but almost disbelieving.

"No, I'm afraid we haven't. Though given how quickly they opened fire on us I can't say they appear to be the friendly types".

The quartet on the other side of the table shared a look at that statement.

"No, the Cylons are not particularly friendly to humans" Adama commented darkly. "It's a long story, but suffice to say the Cylons were created by man" the Commander said, appearing to be groping for the best way to say something uncomfortable, before looking at nothing in front of him, looking back on the past.

"We used them as servants at first. Then, we turned them into a weapon to use against each other".

"As you may have seen, they've proven to be highly skilled a killing humans" Tigh put in bitterly.

"But as always the problem with any intelligence designed to learn is that its growth eventually reaches a critical phase" Baltar joined the conversation. "At some point, some point that we still don't understand today…the Cylons…woke up".

"Woke up?"

"Yes Colonel, as in rebelled. They became aware…and decided they really didn't like being used by humans to kill humans. In fact they decided they prefer a more…general direction of their ire".

"That led to the first Cylon war" Roslin took up the story as she leaned forward. "It was the force that unified the twelve colonies into a true collective Government and ended with a treaty between us and the Cylons, at which point they left for deep space and we never heard from them again…until a year ago".

"And I'm guessing this wasn't a happy family reunion?" Mitchell inquired with a raised eyebrow, guessing from the intercepted transmissions from the Jumper and Prometheus what would come next in the story.

"Not exactly" Adama said with a humorous twitch of a smile.

"They launched an all out genocidal attack against the twelve Colonies" Tigh broke in, the rage his in his undiminished after hundreds of days on the run. "They had infiltrators working, probably for years, to undermine our defense systems, they had our entire computer system set up so perfectly that they shut down any military ships that went up to meet their surprise attack, and they started nuking cities back to the stone age".

Mitchell's mouth went dry listening to the story. He had read enough SG1 mission reports to know it was only by the skin of their teeth that the SGC had managed to avoid getting Earth blasted from space by the numerous bad guys that had been (and still were) hanging around the Galaxy.

But holding THAT kind of a grudge for forty years?

"Did anyone try to talk to them? Has there been any contact since the attacks" Daniel asked quietly into the heavy silence. Tigh just snorted, but Adama shot a look at him and he grudgingly got his expression under control.

"After the Cylons bombarded Picon, the former President offered an unconditional surrender" the current President said with the first twinge of bitterness in her voice, though she quickly got under control. "They never replied. We have however found several...infiltrators in the fleet over time and have gathered a degree of intelligence from them".

"I'm sorry that's something I'm not entirely sure of" Mitchell broke in, leaning forward. "How exactly do these Cylons infiltrate? I mean from what your telling me, big walking metal robots…I can't see them blending in that well".

"Oh believe me" Baltar muttered, almost to himself, "It was…quite a surprise to us as well".

"The Cylons have built several infiltration models – four that we know of - that look and feel human in every detail" Roslin clarified. "They could have -and almost certainly did- infiltrate all levels of the Colonial Government and military with them".

"You've met some of them I take it?" Daniel asked.

"The first was during the attacks, I met him on Ragnar station" Adama recalled, sketching them in on the events on the station. "After we started our trip away from the 12 Colonies, they started to pop up in the fleet, generally trying to turn us against each other or commit acts of sabotage".

"One tried to accuse me of collaborating with them to infiltrate the Twelve Colonies" Baltar interrupted. "Tried to turn everyone against me with some doctored evidence in fact, almost had everyone about to execute me for that matter".

"And the most recent model we found was that of one of our pilots, Lieutenant Sharon Valerii".

The uncomfortable twitching of the Commander and Colonel suggested this was a sensitive subject and Daniel decided not to press. The Commander continued on, with interjections randomly from the people around him that sketched out the story of their flight from the Colonies, the finding of Kobol and the read to Earth.

At the end of it, there was silence for ten seconds as the two tried to take it all in. The kind of horrors these people had gone through and the drive to keep going was almost as awe inspiring as it was terrifying.

The moment was broken when the door in the bulkhead opened and an officer walked over to Adama, and then whispered in his ear. The Commander shut his eyes for a second then opened them as if in exasperation, then straightened up.

"You'll have to excuse me. The press and the Quorum are getting somewhat impatient; I should talk with them before they do anything stupid".

"Do you want me to come with you?" Roslin asked, her tone suggesting that it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"No, you should stay here, but thanks for the offer" Adama replied with a half smile. "But I should take the Vice President as the civilian representative".

"Any objections Doctor?" she asked, directing her attention down the table to her subordinate.

"Well I really-"

"Giaus" Six said in exasperation, sitting on the edge of the table next to him. "You've heard everything you need to hear for now. You have an opportunity to talk to the entire fleet on a subject they desperately want to hear you on…and you don't want to go?"

"-should be going" he finished, getting up so rapidly he knocked his chair over, then almost fell over in his attempt to pull it back up. "So I'll uh….we'll um be going then I guess. Oh I hope we get a chance to have a talk later today Doctor" he said, extended his hand which Daniel took. "Oh and nice to meet you Colonel" he said, finger off a saltute with a smile as he looked around, appearing suddenly to want to be in motion more then anything in the world. "Well shall we go meet the press then Commander?" Without waiting for a reply, he all but jumped out the bulkhead, leaving the group inside staring at the now vacant door.

"Is he always like that?" Mitchell asked in confusion, pointing a finger at the door.

"You have no idea" Tigh muttered

A blast of voices slammed into Gaius as the door opened to the room the Quorum of Twelve and the contingent of press they had brought with them were more or less locked into. Shouted questions from reporters directed at both him and Commander Adama were almost like a physical force as he walked in and he reveled in the attention. Magnanimously letting Adama walk up to the podium at the front of the room used generally for fighter briefings, he slowly started to come up with a plan as Adama waved for calm.

"Please, can I have….PLEASE….thank you" he said as calm (or at least silence) quickly returned to the room.

"Commander Adama" Tom Zarek called as soon as he felt the volume was low enough to guarantee attention. "Today is a momentous day for the fleet, perhaps even the turning point we've all been praying for. On the day we left the Twelve Colonies for the last time, you promised to lead us to Earth. I would like to, on behalf of the fleet, thank you for leading us to our long lost brothers and sisters". And without hesitation, he started to applaud loudly and strongly, the other members of the Quorum instantly following his lead and joining in, the surprised press even jumped in after some slight hesitation.

Adama for the first time even since he had met him was caught flat footed with the completely unexpected tactic and Baltar jumped stepping forward and waving down the applause.

"I'm sure the Commander knows how deeply grateful all of us are to him. But we stand in the middle of momentous events and I've come from meeting with the Earth ambassadors, as I'm sure everyone has questions they need answered".

"Doctor" Adama started, having recovered and seen what Baltar and Zarek were doing but knowing he was probably too late, "I'm not sure that this is the appropriate-"

"The people have a right to hear from our representatives" Sarah Porter said as she stepped forward.

"In the appropriate forum" Adama countered. "Of all the people in the fleet, I would expect the Quorum of Twelve to understand how delicate the first stages of negotiations are".

"And I entirely agree" Baltar broke in again, holding onto the opportunity like a drowning man holding onto a life vest. "But these are extraordinary times. I would think Commander that at the least I can give a quick briefing on the little we know, the people are desperate for any kind of information, I'm sure you can sympathize with that. Of course if you would prefer, I'm sure I can return to Cloud Nine and give an interview there".

Adama stared at him, but as he clearly wasn't going to let Baltar off Galactica if he could help it, he had neatly trapped himself in front of half the fleets press.

"Of course not" Adama replied in a level tone. Turning to the wall mounted phone, he picked if off the cradle and punched a button.

"Kelly? Adama. Have Dualla pick up the ready room microphone signal and broadcast it to the fleet as a message from the Vice President…yes, right now…right, out". Clearly not happy but without much of a choice, Adama nodded at the Vice President, his eyes full of the promise of what would happen if he did anything stupid.

Baltar savored the look. For the first time, Adama saw him as something more then an irritant or spineless insect to be stepped on. Nodding slightly in acknowledgement, he turned to the crowd of reporters pushing against each other to be closest to him.

"Well, I would firstly like to add my voice to those thanking the Commander and his crew. I can assure you if not for some heroism by him and his people, none of us would be alive now".

After all, it didn't hurt to be magnanimous in victory.

"Suffice to say we were saved from destruction by a ship known as the Prometheus. I can confirm that they ARE from Earth. The two representatives who have arrived and I am in deep discussion with are Doctor Daniel Jackson and Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. They are currently in negotiations with us which I and the Commander must return to. But I beg your patience. We have come so far, the information I translated from the tomb of Athena on Kobol" –no need for them not to know who had cracked the code after all- "pointed us here. Today! I ask…no. I beg your indulgence, beginnings are delicate times and we must not loose this opportunity from the Gods through haste or infighting. I promise you I will let you know more as soon as I do, but I will take your concerns to the President. Thank you".

"Thank you mister Vice Presidnet" Tom said loudly, effectively ending the session despite the storm of questions that started to be shouted from the gaggle of reporters. Ignoring them, Baltar walked out past the surprised looking Adama back towards the conference room, smiling only slightly at Six who was sitting on a shipping container and applauding slowly with a grin on her face.


	9. Chapter 9

Weeeeee that took longer then I had hopped.

Okay. I apologize for this chapter being yet MORE exposition. It WAS going to end on a much more interesting encounter, but I decided on reflection that it was better to end the chapter much shorter then I had written it and start the next one fresh rather then force it through and stop.

This was after I had started to realize that the characters had probably been up a little past their bedtime after the first eight chapters

But I promise that you'll get a lot more contact fun next chapter, some explosions in the chapter after that and a couple of major events a chapter after THAT. Just had to finish setting up some things. It should mean the next chapter will be out much faster...as a third of it is already written.

Otherwise, enjoy.**  
**

**Stargate Command ****Commissary  
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado  
Earth  
January 12, 2005**

The SGC Commissary was an integral part of the larger Stargate Command facility. It was a place where the men and women (and occasional alien with a compatible digestive system for that matter) could stop to get a quick bite to eat on the run, or if they had the time to do so, sit down for a good old fashioned meal.

The problem was, it didn't exist.

The US Air Force Commissary Service was an often overlooked component of the worlds most powerful Air Force, having a much lower profile then a shiny new F-22A Raptor squadron or a row of brooding B2 Spirit bombers. But as Napoleon had famously said; 'an army marches on its Stomach' and the Air Force _did_ like its creature comforts. Without the services of this small department, no USAF base would be operational for lack of food…making Stargate Command's position somewhat tricky given that –as far as the Commissary service was concerned- there was no such command.

Luckily with NORAD directly overhead, the easy solution was to simply append the SGC's food requirements (and many many others for that matter) to their own and publicly change NORAD's staffing numbers upward, reflecting new secondary NORAD missions such as deep space radar telemetry analysis, improved command and control functions and other semi classified cover stories as necessary.

But there was arguably a slight difference between providing enough food for two _hundred_ extra personal per shift and fifty _thousand_ per shift…

"So can we say if we have allies or enemies here?"

"After six hours of talks? Not in the least. But Doctor Jackson thinks their intentions are honorable. Which brings up a lot of questions".

Doctor Caroline Lam and General Hank Landry occupied a wall table in the increasingly bustling commissary. The General had been only a matter of minutes away from crashing in his small on-base bedroom, the relay of coffee cups that had kept him going through the night rapidly loosing their effect as the sun started to rise over Colorado.

He tried not to hold it against the good Doctor that as soon as he had reached for a cup of coffee; she had just as firmly reached out and taken it away from him with a look in her eyes that he recognized only too well from her Mother. Still, he was starting to wish he had just taken it regardless of that expression; he felt as if he was about to fall asleep here and now on the table which wasn't the right look for the new commanding officer of a frontline facility like the SGC. Not to mention the senior USMC officers from SG units 3, 10 and 15 were sitting two tables over, taking a quick bite after their 'wakeup' ten kilometer jog earlier in the morning.

The _last_ thing he needed was the jarheads thinking he was a wimp.

"That many people on the run for that long are probably going to be running low on medical supplies, especially if it was an unplanned evacuation. Assuming they even _have_ proper medical facilities at all on board those ships-"

"Well that's the long term problem" Landry responded with a shrug. "The short term question is where the hell do we put them?"

"I'm taking it that 'Earth' would not be an acceptable answer?"

"You take correctly" he replied, sipping at his water and wincing at the bland taste. "Ignoring the slight problem of the security breach fifty thousand humans from another planet would pose, the IOA would never be able to agree to who gets whom".

"Sorry?" Lam asked with a frown, clearly not following.

"Well there isn't a chance these Colonials could simply land and establish their own country on Earth. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the best seats in the house have long since been taken. Which would mean the population would have to find a home in one of the countries already here…"

"Meaning each of the nations would want to skim the best scientists, military officers, engineers…"

"And so on" Landry agreed, rubbing his eyes slightly. "So resettlement on Earth is right out. The only other real option is to find a planet in our Galaxy and help them rebuild their society in some form".

"Which would require huge amounts of infrastructure, supplies, manpower…"

"Which would be problematic at best" Landry agreed with a nod as he placed the cup of water back down and picked at the slice of toast he had grabbed on the way in. "But that kind of approach does have its advantages. The Pentagon is in love with the idea of a relatively sane human ally in our neighborhood…"

"Who just happens to be indebted to Earth" Lam replied dryly.

"Were you always this cynical?" he sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

"I've had a lot of practice" she shrugged, though her pointed look pierced deep into Landry's heart.

_Small steps_ he reminded himself.

"So…how's your mother?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

_Okay, wrong question Hank_ he told himself, picking up his glass again to hide the flash of emotion he felt at the slightly barbed response.

"So, you're all settled in?"

"Renting" she replied with a nod, in gulping down the last of her slice of toast and reaching for another. "I've got a nice place up in Cimarron hills I've been staying in".

"Well you should buy, it's really nice up there this time of year" Landry replied with a slightly forced smile.

Lam simply raised an eyebrow in a manner that made him wonder if she had been spending time around Teal'c recently.

"Well…I'm thinking about it…but as I don't really know how much longer I'm going to be here…"

"Caroline" he tried again, putting his cup down. "No-one forced you to take the job…"

"And General O'Neill didn't tell me that you were going to be my boss" she responded in a slightly sarcastic tone, before breaking eye contact and directing her gaze towards the table with an ever so slightly embarrassed expression on her face. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for".

"But understandable" Landry replied, seizing on the chink in her armor and pushing forward. Privately, he was starting to wonder if should have put off this encounter for a while, but after a night of running verbal battles with Washington, Beijing, Moscow, Paris _and_ London, he had decided his daughter couldn't be much worse.

Oh boy, had _he_ miscalculated.

"I didn't know about you getting the job either until I took mine" he replied with a touch of good humor. "Jack can be a little irritating that way. Colonel Mitchell didn't know SG1 had disbanded either".

"The General has a strange sense of humor" she noted with another raised eyebrow. "Still…this job is something else".

"Not quite John Hopkins" Landry smiled slightly. "But Jack didn't pick you because of me or vice versa. He picked you because he wanted the _best_ of the best to look after his people. And if Jack didn't think that, he wouldn't have fought so hard with Doctor Weir over you".

"Doctor Weir?" she asked with a quizzical, if not hostile frown.

"The Atlantis mission" he clarified. "Doctor Weir was looking for an assistant chief surgeon to back up Doctor Becket. In fact I understand his exact words after reading your file were 'how in the bloody hell do I compete with someone who jumps off cliffs?'"

Managing not to choke on her toast, Caroline Lam smiled, if only slightly at the horrible Scottish accent.

"He said that?"

"More or less" Landry nodded, frowning at his now empty cup of water and gesturing to an airman to bring coffee and to hell with his daughter. "And I have to admit I was…a little freaked out that you were into base jumping"

"Not exactly daddies little girl anymore" she stated, with a hint of pride and defiance, but little real rancor. "And after stepping through the Stargate…jumping off a cliff sounds so…blasé".

"It's a hell of a job" he yawned, rubbing his eyes as the Airman finally arrived with a coffee refill.

"Stop that" Caroline ordered as the airman eased the pot into place, before turning her gaze back to her father. "How long has it been since you've had some sleep?"

"Too long" he chuckled. "I had an all nighter with the Pentagon, White House and most of the IOA. When I saw the time I knew you would be around so…"

"One more cup and you're going to give yourself and ulcer" she commented, sipping carefully from her own to hide her expression. She couldn't help but be touched at her father's efforts…even if there was no way in hell she was just going to pretend everything was peachy on a personal level with him.

Still you had to start somewhere...

"Well they say the Doctor always knows best" Landry nodded, wiping his mouth with his serviette. "You might want to look at some of the contingency plans Doctor Frasier wrote up for large scale humanitarian work off world with SGC resources. _If_ we get the green light to start aid shipments to these people, I want to see food and medicine flooding through the front door within twenty four hours of the Go signal from Washington. I have a bad feeling they need it".

**Battlestar Galactica  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
Cylon Genocide + 203 days. **

"I appreciate your concern, but the fact is we are in no position to refuse help on this scale" President Roslyn commented to the group crowded into the briefing room. Where the room had seamed so empty to her earlier when it had been filled with just the two Earth representatives , facing the Quorum of Twelve it now felt far too small.

Or perhaps it was the ego rolling off the twelve politicians in front of her that had eaten up the empty space.

"This…story you've told us Madam President" Tom Zerak said with a skeptical expression. "I don't doubt that it is exactly what they have told you…but I find it a little hard to believe. A world that isn't aware of a full scale Galactic war and the existence of aliens?" Zerak wondered with a skeptical look as he slowly paced in front of the table Laura sat at. "A world where space traveling technology is almost non existent, but, they are capable of building ships like _that_ monster?" he asked, waving at the far bulkhead in the general direction of the distant _Prometheus_.

"They're not spear wielding barbarians Tom" Laura replied, a hint of irritation starting to work its way into her increasingly tired voice. "A great deal of their general technology is comparable to ours if not superior in some respects, but unlike us, _they_ did not inherit more advanced technology from the Gods when they left Kobol".

"And let us _not_ forget the near heretical claims they have made of the Gods" Sarah Porter spoke up quickly (and predictably) at the opening. "They have apparently been here less then a day and yet they presume to instruct us on the history of the Gods when-"

"Putting the religious questions aside for now" Tom commented as he tried to regain control of the conversation, "we have to ask what these people want in return for-".

"-Excuse me Tom" Porter jumped back in with an icy tone in her voice, "I don't believe there can BE any more important question then this. We are talking about a long term involvement with these people, the damage they could do to our society-"

"-Pails in comparison to the blatantly obvious benefits they can bring us. Those small insignificant things, you know, like food, water, medical supplies, protection from the Cylons; all those irritating little parts of _staying alive_ that might concern us in some way?"

Porter turned her icy glare onto the person who had dared speak out against her carefully planed tirade, only to have Gaius Baltar return it with a look of mild indifference that verged on smug superiority.

"_Putting aside_ the religious question" Roslyn tried again with a good deal more volume, "and putting aside the past, we need to look to the future. Doctor Jackson has provisionally agreed to address the fleets press in a limited question an answer session and Colonel Mitchell has invited a small group to pay a visit to the Prometheus. I'm opening the floor to comments".

Fourteen people instantly started talking at the same time.

"It never ceases to amaze me how…limited the human political method is" the tall and regal looking blond commented from her place next toe Baltar, with a look of mild amusement riding on her face as she observed the exploding argument only a matter of meters away. "Is it really _this_ hard for humans to see the only logical outcome of this situation?"

"I suppose the Cylons have a perfect unity in their opinions?" Gaius responded dryly as too watched the debate, none of whom would be able to hear him (even if they cared) over the racket they were generating, which was now expanding to include both Adama and Tigh in a free for all encompassing everything from Religion to the fleets food supply situation.

"Oh, you'd be surprised" Six laughed in response to his question, stretching her perfect body with a grace and ease that made him believe sometimes that she truly WAS an Angel from God. "All beings are imperfect Gaius" she continued, looking at Roslyn's haggard face as she tried to restore order. "It's simply a fact of the universe. Humans are an imperfect creation and we are an imperfect creation of humans. But we work with a consensus; a unity that humans have never come close to achieving. Human ego" she said with completely insincere sadness sitting on her face, "will always triumph over human humility". Swinging her legs to get to her feet, she shot a wicked grin at him. "It's what made it so easy for me to seduce you".

Baltar felt a muscle in his mouth twitch slightly at the almost caviler way she once again tossed his role in humanities fall into his face, holding back a useless response to the thin air she had just occupied, glaring at the empty space until it finally dawned on him that someone was calling his name.

"Doctor Baltar? Mister Vice President? Are we boring you?"

Turning back to face the President, Gaius let the anger drain out of his body and tried to refocus on the argument, which was now as more between the Quorum themselves (excepting Tom Zarek who had carefully stayed neutral in the whole mess) as between the President and the Quorum.

"Absolutely" he responded with a wan smile. "I'm afraid I'm still something of a part time politician so you'll have to forgive me…but is this the normal way politics works?"

"More or less" she decided with a very slight smile of her own. "You should have seen the Cabinet room back when President Altar floated his tax increase proposal".

"Loud?"

"Very" she nodded. "Anything to add?"

"Not as such" he shrugged. "I talked to the press earlier and I don't think they can be put off for much longer. Not without the whole situation blowing up in our face at any rate".

"Blow up in _our_ face or _yours_?" she asked mildly, but with a tone behind it that he found chilling. "Billy was kind enough to bring me a transcript of your press conference, where you assigned yourself the position of press liaison between the Earth delegation and the fleet" Roslyn said, leaning back in her chair and studying his face closely. "Seconded by Tom Zerak himself" she added as an afterthought, glancing at the Quorum member who almost appeared to be gloating over the chaos he had caused from a corner of the room.

"Now wait a minute" Gaius protested, forcing every bit of indignant anger into his voice that he could muster. "I stood up on your behalf to try and calm down a _very_ difficult situation that could have caused Commander Adama a great deal of difficulty. In case you have forgotten, while you were off on Kobol running around with Tom Zerak, Adama and Tigh were failing miserably at managing the press. Frak, they _created the situation _where you were able to abscond with a third of the fleet from under his nose! The LAST thing this situation needed was the image that the military was in total control. Everything I said was for _your _benefit, not mine!"

"In that case" she replied –while her expression said plainly that she didn't buy any of it- "I apologize and thank you for your help".

"Apology accepted" Gaius replied blandly with a look that said _he _didn't buy her easy concession anymore then she did.

The lines had been drawn.

"_DOES THAT STAND FOR ANY PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES_??!!"

Captain Kara Thrace was used to dealing with Colonel Saul Tigh on a day to day basis. They butted heads as a matter of routine and she had spent more then a few days in the brig, time she accepted as a part of their unusual hate-hate-grudging respect relationship.

But she couldn't ever remember his face ever being such a deep red and took it as a sign that she might just have not only crossed the line with him but detonated a nuclear weapon upon it, rupturing the thin veneer of civilized behavior that kept the Colonel in check.

Either that or he had been hitting the bottle again.

"Do you have ANY FRAKEN IDEA what you could have DONE with that STUPID, IMMATURE -and oh so Starbuck who gives a FRAK about the fraken consequences- COMMENT?"

"Well if he got offended I'd guess we'd know that he has a small-"

"SHUT YOUR FRAKEN MOUTH!!" Tigh nearly shouted into her face at point blank range, Starbuck obeying with a soft _click_ of her jaw sealing tight and deciding this time she might just keep her mouth shut.

Tigh held her stare at point blank range for a few seconds before stepping away, his hands flexing dangerously, almost as if he had a pistol in his hand and was working the trigger.

"Gods I hate today. When I woke up, everything was nice and sane. Now I'm about three hours overdue for getting some rack time and rather then throw you in the brig, I have to come down here and…Zeus give me strength, I can't do it. APOLLO!"

"Right here Colonel" the younger Adama spoke up carefully as he stepped forward, trying to keep a solid desk in the empty ready room between himself and the raging XO as he moved up".

"Please explain to Starbuck what the Old Man has decided is a suitable punishement for our hot shot pilot here after her stupidity today".

Taking a slight gulp, Apollo turned his attention to the officer standing at attention for perhaps the first time in as long as he could remember.

"Uh Colonel Mitchell extended an invitation for a small group to have a walk over their ship some time tomorrow, after we've all had a good nights sleep…and he asked by any chance if you would be willing to…uh….".

"Get out…you want me to go over to his ship?" she asked with a stupid grin starting to spread over her face and instantly destroying her military attitude, less at Apollo's statement then at the vein that started throbbing near the top of Tighs left eyebrow.

"_Want_ you to?" Tigh echoed in a dangerously soft voice, cocking his head slightly as if considering the notion. "If I had my way Captain, you'd be grounded for the next month after that little stunt of yours. But apparently the Commander, the CAG _and_ the President think it's a fantastic, wonderful idea!" Rolling his eyes, Tigh stepped back from the lectern he had been subconsciously throttling with one hand, moving towards the door in great strides. "Gods know you'll bring us into a war with Earth sooner or later, might as well be after a good nights rest. Be ready in full dress by oh eight hundred tomorrow for a briefing. You'll meet the rest of your team then".

Without bothering to dismiss the two officers or acknowledge the salutes (one sloppy one not), the XO passed through the door and woe to the crewman who might be on duty between him and his quarters.

Hissing out the breath he had been holding, Apollo shook his head slightly and turned to his best pilot with a look that spoke volumes.

"Are you _ever_ going to grow up?" he demanded with an exasperated look as he flopped down into a convenient chair.

"Oh come on Lee, you could hear the way he was talking on the wireless, he's a pilot like you or me. Okay perhaps I went a little too far-"

"A _little_ too far?"

"Okay fine a LOT far. But hey, you can't argue with success!"

"You know, I'm really starting to get tired of this seat of the pants crap Starbuck" he snapped, letting some of the irritation he had hidden from Tigh –he'd never let either the XO or his pilots see overt agreement or disagreement in an argument- show through. "I always have to come in and defend your latest crap in front of Tigh and I've had it up to here with being blasted on your behalf".

"Hey I _never_ asked you to run interference with shinny head for me-"

"The hell you didn't" he interrupted her protest. "Remember when we were jumping away from Ragnar? When I tried to get your stubborn ass to take stims like everyone else, you told me to stop trying to be everyone's best friend and start being the CAG. The CAG's job is to defend his pilots and to kick their fraken asses when they screw up". Holding Starbuck gaze until she glanced away, he sighed and took a few steps away, hating himself for having to come down on one of his oldest (if most erratic and pain in the ass) friends like that.

"Look Kara" he tried again in a calmer voice. "You flew better then anyone out there today and hell, you're still the best pilot we've got. I don't know what happened to you on Caprica…but since you got back you've been walking around with a chip the size of an asteroid on your shoulder, just looking for a fight. This contact with Earth could be the turning point we've been looking for and we can't frak this up. Everyone is tired, everyone is desperately hoping for something good to come of this. You're not the only one with issues, not the only one who's had to leave people behind on-"

"_That_ has nothing to do with this Lee" she flared, for the first time actually showing some real emotion instead of her typical cocky expression she used to hide her real feelings.

"Good" he replied mildly, sitting down on a spare chair in the front row of the amphitheater. After a few seconds, she sighed and flopped down next to him; finally ready to start talking…he hopped.

"So what'd I miss?"

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 12, 2005.**

"Knock knock"

Daniel looked up from the digital scanner in Prometheus's tiny office as Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter poked her head through the doorway. Installed almost as an afterthought between the 8th bulkhead damage control locker and the number six railgun magazine, the room was just large enough to fit in a pair of PC's and a scanner, photocopier, printer combination deal that Daniel was having the devil of the time getting to work.

"Hey. Any idea how to work this thing" he asked, pressing a likely looking button and getting a loud buzz in return. "You know I can fly a Goa'uld Mothership, work an Ancient computer-"

"But Microsoft Office is completely beyond your understanding?" she asked with a tired laugh as she stepped in. "I'm thinking the next time the Cylons try to hack into the ships systems we should just upload Windows to their ships and see what happens".

"Yeah isn't there a line in the Geneva Convention about cruel and unusual punishment or something?" Daniel muttered, giving up and making way in the cramped room for Sam to get at the scanner. A few keystrokes on the keyboard and a quick tap on the buttons on the photocopier and she stepped back.

"For each page just press this and it'll scan an image into this directory" she explained as Daniel moved back in, carrying the Ancient book he had recovered from under Glasdbury.

"So how did it go with Pendergast?" he asked as he carefully placed the book onto the machine and started copying the precious records into a less vulnerable digital format.

"Well I can't say he was happy about your idea to bring people on board for a tour".

"Really?" Daniel asked in mock surprise as he flipped the book to the next page and restarted the scanner. "Then he's going to hate when the Stargate program goes public. Can you imagine of the line of VIP's demanding joyrides after the program becomes public knowledge?"

"Well I've been more worried about _how_ it becomes public knowledge then what happens afterward" Sam pointed out, typing in a command on the keyboard to better adjust the settings for the strangely sized book starting the scanner back up again.

Daniel grinned. "Jack thought the classy thing would be to have Thor stand in front of one of those rovers on Mars and wave at the cameras. Either that or fly into orbit and carve crop circles that say 'bite me' in Asgard throughout the Midwest".

"Well that's subtle" Sam replied with a somewhat amused roll of her eyes. Stifling another yawn the Colonel rubbed at her eyes, beginning to really feel the fatigue catching up to her. "It's been a hell of a long day. Pendergast is going to finish up a with final communication with the SGC and turn in. Oh and I almost forgot, Raknor just arrived with two Motherships on our side of the Gateway to protect the station for us, complements of Teal'c."

"Wow…" was all Daniel could say in response to the surprising outcome. Even after the fall of the Goa'uld where scores of Motherships had been liberated by the Jaffa, getting two of them detached for Earths use was a rather unprecedented state of affairs.

"Yeah apparently Teal'c and Bre'tac have scored a major victory over the hardliners in the Jaffa Government. Raknor sounded rather pleased with himself, but I figure you'd understand the politics better".

"Well yes and no" Daniel replied as he continued to flip through the pages and scan them "Jaffa politics are the main problem with establishing their Government, before the Goa'uld collapsed Jaffa politics generally meant you followed the leader or you challenged him to a fight to the death".

"Interesting way to run an army" Sam commented dryly.

"Yeah…" Daniel replied with a shrug. "Funny how similar the Cylon story is" the Doctor continued, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Come again?" Sam asked with a confused look, Daniel once again changing tracks faster then she could keep up.

"Just think about it" he thought out loud, turning pages on the book as the train of thought expanded slowly through his fatigued mind. "The Jaffa were bred to serve the Goa'uld for countless generations. They were controlled through false religion, rituals, whatever. The Cylons on the other hand were created as servants for much of the same reason, disposable foot soldiers and cannon fodder. They also broke free and fought back".

"And took it to somewhat different levels" Sam pointed out. "I mean the Jaffa might try to kill every Goa'uld they can get their hands on, but the Goa'uld are arguably beyond redemption as a species –excepting the Tok'ra- at any rate. The Colonials, assuming they were telling the truth, acknowledged their mistakes with the Cylons, signed a peace treaty which lasted for half a century until an unprovoked attack on a Genocidal scale".

"Yeah so I heard" Daniel nodded. "But we only have the word of these people for exactly what happened. I just wish I could find a Cylon willing to sit down and talk with us".

Carter tried not to smile, remembering Daniels almost violent insistence back in the Puddle Jumper that they had to try and defend the civilians from the Cylons…now he was sympathizing with them? It was so like him, to force himself to see every problem from every perspective with his uncanny ability to empathize with beings and find some common ground to work with.

Then again, given the icy cold attitude he had said had been directed towards the Cylons by the colonials, he might have a bit of work to do before he could get them sitting in the same room together.

But she knew he would sure as would try.

"Come on Daniel" she said, walking towards the thick door and swinging it open into the corridor as she put of any future thoughts more distant then the rack in her cabin upstairs out of her head. "Let's get some sleep".

**Al'Kesh Bomber.  
P4X-221 Star System.  
January 12, 2005.**

"My Lord, we are approaching the designated co-ordinates".

The great God Ba'al looked up with a very un-Godlike look of irritation at the Jaffa manning the ships piloting station. He had been greatly enjoying his latest foray into Earth culture, a magazine as the Tau'ri called one of their many forms of publications, this one a military one on the evolution of combined arms doctrine over the last fifty years of Tau'ri history.

It made for most interesting reading when compared to the thousands of years of memories his bloodline contained, none of his predecessors had ever thought of war the way the Tau'ri did. After all, the Goa'uld dynasty was forever, from one generation to the next it was an eternal line unbroken that would always be.

Unfortunately, the System Lords had forgotten to inform the United States of that fact and when the Asgard had placed them under their protection, they had lost their window to stop them. Like a patient rust working on the foundations of a skyscraper (another thing that had impressed him upon his arrival on Earth), the Tau'ri had undermined the very building blocks of the dynasty as they had killed off System Lord after System Lord, inciting uprising after uprising…

And now here he was. Sneaking through a part of space where once millions would cringe in terror at his presence.

Still. These Cylons offered an opportunity. It would have to be carefully approached and studied from all angles. If the fall of the Goa'uld Empire had taught him anything, it was that careful planning and patience was a much more useful weapon then a legion of Jaffa or a squadron of Motherships.

But as the Tau'ri were so fond of saying, opportunity knocked…

"Very well" he replied, tossing the magazine onto the throne he had installed onto the Al'kesh command deck, stepping forward to the Mothership style control board. "Drop us out of hyperspace…now".

A hyperspace window was ripped open in the fabric of space, just long enough for the sleek silver shape of an Al'kesh to fall back into realspace before dissipating. Dropping his ship into realspace on the far side of the systems primary from the Ancient space station, Ba'al was confident that he would avoid detection. A confidence that increased as his hand moved in the command console and activated the ships cloaking device.

"We are secure from Hyperspace my Lord and the cloaking device is operating normally" the Jaffa intoned from the pilot's seat in a monotone voice, the result of the rather stringent reprogramming he had put the few Jaffa who still served him through. One of the many useful tools Anubis had developed after his return.

In fact the ship was _crammed_ full of technology Anubis had developed after his return to the System Lords, some of which could prove quite useful in this endeavor.

The Al'kesh swiftly cruised through the star system, taking a close slingshot around the systems primary at a not inconsiderable percentage of light speed before starting a gradual deceleration towards the brooding mass of the Ancient space station. As the ship moved closer, the bright spot of light that was the station and the two slightly smaller spots that were the so called 'Free Jaffa Nation' Ha'Tak slowly resolved into shapes over points of light. Ba'al idly wondered if one of them was his former flagship, lost in orbit over Da'kara, then shrugged. He'd get that ship and far more back one day. Unlike the rest of his species who had mostly managed to get themselves killed in the orgy of rage the Jaffa had indulged in over the last few months, _he_ had simply melted away with enough resources to start over, using fortunate preparations he had been making to quietly slip away from Anubis after his return. The Galaxy was still a big place with plentiful resources after all.

The compromised Trust leadership had provided a wonderful opportunity for keeping an eye on Earth and her allies. Already the risk of heading to a planet with skilled law enforcement was paying off. These…Cylons might well accelerate his timetable by years if he was lucky…but he would just have to see.

Glancing up as the Al'kesh slowly drifted past a Mothership and towards the shimmering field of the inter-dimensional gateway, he allowed himself a full two seconds to reflect on notions of once again commanding fleets of such vessels that would sweep the Galaxy clean of his enemies.

And then playtime, as the humans said, was over.

"Gateway in ten seconds" the Jaffa counted down, carefully aligning to hit the dead centre of the field.

"Maintain cloak and make sure we impact as slow as possible" Ba'al ordered as he worked his controls. Anubis for whatever reason had done some research into dimensional travel, probably in the long years of his exile and from those records he had been able to get a rough idea of what was involved. The ships cloaking device had been adjusted accordingly and if he was right-

With a slight shudder, the Al'kesh 'pushed' its way through the gateway.

Of course technically his ship didn't PUSH anywhere. From his understanding of the technology, the diamond shaped dimensional vortex had expanded and enveloped hull of the Al'kesh instantaneously, dematerializing it and shooting it 'through' the dimensional bridge to rematerialize on the far side. The expanded cloaking field left behind dissipated less then a second later, but it was enough time to hide the flash of radiation and light from the transition.

And the stations two escorting warships continued their lazy orbit of the distant star, ignoring the irrelevant and almost insubstantial pulse of radiation that had come from the gateway seconds before, neither knowing nor caring about its source.

After all, they were on the lookout for hostile ships.

**Cylon Occupied Caprica  
Occupied 12 Colonies.  
Cylon Victory + 204 Days.**

"So _this_ is where you've been hiding"

Standing on top of a skyscraper from which one could see all the way to the distant green hills that ringed Caprica city, the Cylon currently known as Caprica Six slowly stood from where she had been leaning against the metal railing, but didn't turn from the glorious vista of the sunset she had been watching.

A few seconds later, footsteps sounded followed by a door closing as the intruder realized Caprica wouldn't look away, deciding instead to come over and join her. Even if the voice hadn't given her identity away, the footsteps would have. They were perfectly ordered, drilled with military precision despite he high heals she wore, with left foot precisely following right foot in a measured cadence that brought her to the railing.

"I wasn't hiding" Caprica responded after just enough time had passed, still watching the ball of fire on the horizon as it slowly sunk towards the ground. "I was just looking for some time alone, to think."

"Celebrity Caprica, running away from her loyal fans" the Three laughed, leaning down onto the railing and around at the view. "Well I can understand the need for time alone. Your Sisters just walk down the street happy to go about their tasks but you…everyone looks at you, stares at you, whispers to their colleagues about you…it's almost…human".

Finally turning her head slightly to look at the Cylon Women next to her, Caprica couldn't help but wonder as she always did if there was a double meaning somewhere under the straightforward statement.

"Ahh _now_ you're getting it. Paranoia and suspicion are such useful senses in a Cylon with your life expectancy".

Six redirected her vision out towards the orange-red horizon as the lightly sarcastic voice washed over her. In her peripheral vision, a tall man in a half done up business suit sauntered up on her right and leaned with his back against a railing, fiddling with a cigar.

"Oh please, I had enough time with the human mob back in my deep cover days, I don't think I could stand any more" Caprica said with a slightly forced tone of amusement that caused the Three to smile as she watched the sun slowly sinking towards the ground.

"Glorious isn't it? I can see why you come up here at this time. It's almost like feeling God's love washing over you, almost blinding in intensity but so brilliant you just can't look away" the Three softly spoke in an almost reverent tone as the ball of fire gently touched the ground and started to sink under it.

"No…" Gauis Baltar –or his reflection or _whatever_ he was- commented with a frown, glancing over his shoulder at incredible vista with an expression of mild indifference, "Reminds me of a fifty kiloton nuclear bomb going off on the horizon. Though I'm sure some of the billions of humans who died on this planet fell to their knees thinking _something _about God when they saw it".

"Yes" Caprica agreed, forcing an awed expression onto her face as the Sun continued to sink. "Up here you can almost forget everything and believe that it's just you and God in the world".

"And if only it could last forever" she commented with a somewhat exaggerated sigh. "But we have to live in the world and all its imperfections…like our latest setback on the front lines"

"Oh?" she asked with a disinterested tone that belayed the relief that Three apparently hadn't come looking for her for yet another public 'tour' of the rebuilding of the city, showing her off to the crowds made up of the same seven gaping faces…

"Yes our fleet, the new point defense upgraded Base ships in fact, caught Galactica in orbit of a planet about thirty light years from Kobol".

"Well what could the problem be? That's five ships against one".

"So it would look…except Galactica got help".

"Pegasus?"

"No. In fact we've lost track of her in the middle of this confusion. A new ship, one according to the reports we've received claims to be an Earth ship".

"…And they fought _against_ us?"

"Yes, if you can believe it, they did considerable damage to the task force".

"You've just wiped out billions of humans in an unprovoked surprise attack, what _possible_ reason could a human ship have to side with Galactica against you?" Gaius asked with a roll of his eyes as he took a drag on his cigar, leaving phantom clouds of smoke drifting in the orange glow around them.

"Did we even attempt communications?" Caprica insisted, ignoring her invisible companion, but silently agreeing with the point in fact so many Cylons were overlooking with their current plants.

"THEY did" the Three said with a look of near contempt on her face instantly washing away her dreamy smile. "One of the fives was in charge of the tactical situation and decided it was nothing but a Colonial trick. Their response was rather pointed".

"She's hiding something" Gaius declared as he slowly paced like a predator around the pair on the rooftop. "She's scared about something…there is something more about this battle she isn't going to tell you". He paused for a second in his pacing and frowned at the now worried looking Three. "Funny that. In a society made up of advanced artificial intelligences, a society built on consensus and unity…she is keeping things from you". He took another long drag on the cigar and blew the cloud over the Threes face with a tight grin. "Makes you think doesn't it?"

"Regardless of what happened" Caprica forced forward, and pushing aside the alarm bells that Gaius had started ringing in her head, "the only relevant question is what do we do now?"

"That is the question" she agreed with a sigh as the last vestiges of the sun started to fall under the horizon.

"But the wrong one" Baltar interjected in a thoughtful tone. "After all, why would somebody be trying to impress upon a _hero_ of the Cylons her version of events so carefully of something that happened so far away and doesn't involve her in any real way?"

"You lived with the humans, among them longer then any of us" the Three pointed out, rubbing her hands slightly as the temperature steadily dropped. "Better then any of us, you know how they think and just how unstable they can be".

"Within reason" Caprica agreed, shooting a warning look at Gaius as he leaned against the nearby wall, holding his tongue.

"Then you understand why we need your voice so desperately tonight. We need to figure out what our next move will be. We need to help everyone understand the danger if we let these humans unite against us, if we can somehow split these humans away from the Colonials, deal with them on our timeframe rather then theirs…"

"What do you need me to do?" Caprica asked quickly, trying to put an eager to help smile on her face, which the Three returned quickly, reaching out and squeezing her hand in what she no doubt took to be a friendly gesture, but felt almost…cold.

"We're going to ship out to the Battle group, or what's left of it, tonight. The Cavals are very interested in trying to talk to these Earth delegates and your experience would be most valuable.

"Well I guess I should go get ready" Caprica smiled, standing up as the last glimmer of the sun fell under the horizon.

"I knew you would be ready to get off this planet" Three smiled back at her. "You've spent too much time here already, not that I begrudge you that. You deserve the recognition you get when you walk down a street, you _earned _it. You managed to seduce a man so totally that he granted you the keys to the human's greatest military secrets. No-one here can possible understand what you've been through…but I'm hoping Caprica, that you might be able to understand someone else".

"I'm not sure I understand" Caprica honestly replied.

"Well we have another Cylon who is having trouble with accepting her download. An Eight. Another hero in fact. Unlike us, she didn't have the luxury of knowing her true identity and her rehabilitation has been…difficult. Not that I told you this, but there's even talk of boxing her if she doesn't snap out of it".

"So you put a deep cover infiltrator into the humans, use her as a disposable resource without her knowing who she really is, then go to the trouble of resurrecting her just to shut her down when she finds it a tad difficult to accept her entire life was a lie" Baltar summarized with a thoughtful expression on his face. "How wonderfully inhuman". Then he paused as if reconsidering his statement and smiled. "Oh that's right, you are".

"That's a little extreme isn't it?" Caprica protested.

"Like I said it's a last resort. And ordinarily I wouldn't have asked you for months yet to help out, I don't think it's reached a stage where it's irrevocable" Three pointed out in a level tone. "But we can't wait too much longer; she is regressing almost to the point of believing that she IS a human, in denial of her nature. We'll take her with us, so you can spend some time with her. But if you can't help her Caprica…" she left the sentence hanging, gave a final smile and quick grip of her shoulder, then turned and strode away towards the stairs in the rapidly darkening night.

Caprica barely noticed her going, her mind churning in the confusion. There wasn't any _rush_ surely, even with this supposed Earth ship they had neutralized the Colonies as any real kind of threat and they were taking all the time in the world to rebuild these worlds for God's children. Why couldn't they take the time to gently teach her to accept her place in God's plan, instead of simply downloading her into a box and locking her up?

"Now THAT" Baltar whispered with a tight grin, leaning closer to hear ear in the dim light, "is the _right_ question".

"Damn that skin job is fraked up" a human five hundred meters away commented. Lying flat on the roof of a building on the edge of Caprica City, the two black clad humans were effectively invisible in the twilight. One with a pair of binoculars was focused on the balcony several blocks away while the larger human kept the laser tap focused.

"Why do you say that?" the man with the huge muscles evident of a professional athlete asked as he swept his field glasses around to check on the placement of the centurion patrols which clanked their way around the area.

"The other Cylon left and she's still talking to herself".

"Eh, you're probably catching another conversation" Anders replied to Hilliard with a snort, turning his glasses back. But the light and distance were against him and he couldn't make out much more then the slim figure standing there in a white outfit of some kind. "After all, any skin job model sounds the same as another of the same model. Hell they even talk about the same fraken stuff all the time".

Hilliard grunted, neither accepting nor disputing the claim as she flicked off the lasers power unit and started to break it down. The low intensity IR beam could be easily missed in the glare of the sunset, even to Centurions with their integrated sensors, but it was probably too dangerous to keep using it now. Still the bits they had managed to overhear with their last laser a tech wizard had cobbled together months ago -before his death had precluded any more being built- had confirmed their targets identity.

"Still wana bomb the frak out of the building?" Hilliard asked in a conversational tone as she finished stuffing the key components of the jury rigged device into her bag and carefully started to check she hadn't left anything behind.

"I'd love to" Anders sighed. "Security is minimal, just those bullet heads out front and the one roaming. And there's a storm drain that would let us right into that Café to kill every fraking one of them when they sit down for their morning coffee. Especially that hero up there…but she'll be gone before we could get it organized. And we need to get this info back to the group".

"You really think they've run into an Earth ship?" Hilliard asked skeptically as the two started to inch their way backwards towards the air vent system that zig zagged its way down the building to their sub basement access point.

"If I had heard a skinjob claim it two months ago, I wouldn't have" he admitted, walking carefully hunched over towards the access point they had emerged from. "After Starbucks little visit?" he wondered out loud, then shrugged. "Damned if I don't think it's possible. And I want there to actualy be people left to greet her when she comes back for us".

"If she comes back for us" his companion muttered as she stepped into the vent after him and reached back to pull the grating back into position.

"Oh she will" Anders said with absolute confidence as he started down. "Even if she climbs onto the back of a Base Ship and rides it all the way back here, she'll be back. She's too damn stubborn to give up on us".


	10. Chapter 10

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 13, 2005.  
**

The sound of the wakeup alarm built into Doctor Daniel Jackson's rack was, without a doubt, the most horrible sound he had _ever_ heard in his life. A loud scraping, squeaking noise that cycled once every second, it stated _much _louder then words that the USAF did not trust the ability of personnel assigned to the _Prometheus_ to get out of bed on time.

At least not without a great deal of encouragement.

By putting the cutoff switch to the alarm _well_ out of reach of someone lying in their rack – integrated next to the door in fact - the ships rather sadistic designers had ensured anyone who wanted to shut off the alarm would be forced to leave their bed, if only to gain a respite from the horrible noise.

Idly as he struggled into a sitting position while trying not to slam his head on the bunk bed above him, Daniel wondered if it was because of this alarm that standing orders directed all personal weapons were to be stored in the ships armories. _After all,_ he reasoned, _the odds of a Marine or Airman blowing the speaker away on reflex had to at _least_ be statistically measurable_…

Still half asleep, Daniel threw off his covers and staggered towards the doorway, groping for the blurry light winking in time with the noise several times before his sluggish hand connected with the switch, simultaneously killing the noise and flicking the rooms fluorescent lighting to full power.

Wincing against the illumination, he rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to clear them before fumbling his glasses from the tiny shelf next to the door and bringing the room into clear focus. He immediately decided the style of the furnishings looked better _without _the glasses.

Shaking his head vigorously to clear it, he swung his arms around to get the blood flowing to his muscles before grabbing the bag he had somehow managed to pack before slumping into bed last night (or was it earlier this morning?) and stepped into the corridor outside, clad it little more then a T-Shirt and boxers for the short walk to the shower.

As he expected, the passage lined with doors every five or so meters was deserted. This deck in fact was something of a joke to the ships crew, a legacy of the bureaucratic nightmare that was the Pentagons procurement system. It was, in Sam's opinion, the expected outcome when every branch of the armed forces (except for the Coast Guard who nobody thought to invite) got to politely contribute 'suggestions' to the Air Force over the ships design, while the Air Force politely pretend to actually give a damn.

Army and Marine advisors to the design team had pushed for an assault ship that played to Earths strength in ground warfare, arguing that building a ship to engage a Goa'uld Mothership was premature without shielding technology or sophisticated energy weapons. Their proposal for a ship capable of transporting a full blown Marine Expeditionary Unit had been rejected out of hand…but the Pentagon, typically, had decided that _some_ capacity to transport large numbers of combat troops outside of the Stargate network would be a useful thing to have on board.

So the first generation of blueprints were ripped up, the ships missile magazine halved in size and an area large enough for an infantry company and all their equipment was installed…then never used for anything but cargo storage.

Still. At least it meant he had the local shower block on this deck all to himself…

"And that's where they stand".

Daniel caught the tail end of the breakfast conversation in the packed Officers mess as he wandered in, dodging the crowd of junior officers lining up at the buffet along one bulkhead as he looked around for his fellow team members. Unsurprisingly, he saw both Sam and Cameron were sitting with Pendergast and Marks at a table close to the back of the room, at the only table not loaded beyond capacity with most of the ships Alpha shift officers. Glancing at the thinnest part of the crowd trying to get food, he reached in and took a pre-packed sandwich and a bottle of fresh orange juice from the counter before ambling over.

"Hey Doc" Cameron suddenly waved as he spotted the Daniel, gesturing towards the remaining seat at the table. "I was starting to wonder if you had slept through the alarm or something".

"I don't think someone who had lost all sense of hearing could sleep through _that_ alarm" Daniel responded dryly as he squeezed in next to Captain Marks, who grunted an acknowledgment while continuing to gulp down a bowl of cereal at an impressive rate.

"But it _does_ get you up" Mitchell pointed out with a grin. "And today is such a big day, I'd hate for you to miss all the fun".

"Oh yeah, Fun" Daniel agreed with just a hint of sarcasm as he made a start on his sandwich, knowing he needed the energy. "I mean I'm just going to a press conference in front of a population more then a little curious about Earth, and I have to tell them the 'no vacancies sign' is currently lit".

"This is true" Mitchell admitted, pouring a new round of coffee into his mug before he started to rummage through a stack of papers in the centre of the table. "_But_ we do have some _good_ news…assuming I can find it…ah" he said triumphantly, brandishing a folder and flicking it over to Daniel who barely managed to intercept it without sending juice flying everywhere. "This came in last night" Mitchell continued as he lifted second cup of 'wakeup' coffee –the blend with triple the amount of regular caffeine members of the US armed forces lived on - pouring in a measure of milk then hunting around for the sugar dispenser on the cluttered table. "You might find it interesting".

Daniel, somehow, found a small space to set his food down before leaning back and flipping open the folder. The timestamp in the header showed it had arrived only a matter of hours ago, which meant someone had been burning serious midnight oil in Washington. Skimming over the first paragraph which was mostly superfluous security warnings that told of dire consequences should this document, currently sitting in deep space in another universe get to unauthorized personnel back on Earth, he reached the second block of text and started to skim over it, then stopped and carefully reread it as his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"This was signed off by the President?"

"It was" Pendergast nodded, stepping in for Mitchell who was finishing off a slice of toast vigorously. "I'm as surprised as you are, but I have to admit it's got elegant possibilities...if they go for it".

"Well it's at least a genuine alternative to just turning them away" Daniel exhaled in some relief. Everything was moving too damn fast for his liking. He had made contact with dozens of cultures over the years, even helped more then one to relocate for varying reasons, but the scale they had found themselves in with the Colonials was just so far beyond anything in his experience he was finding it hard to keep up. Still, the communication in his hand offered hope that things might just turn out okay in the long run.

In the short run however, he needed to balance the sarcasm scales with the newest member of SG1.

"So" he said smiling and glancing around the table before focusing on Mitchell. "You're all ready for the big date? Not too nervous I hope…"

Mitchell looked up as he shoveled a half teaspoon of sugar into his coffee and started stirring. Vigorously

"It's _not_ a date" Mitchell declared - almost too quickly - in Daniels mind. "She's a pilot, one of their best according to Adama, though she has a bit of an attitude problem, typical pilot really, he promises she'll be on her best behavior and I'll make sure, that is I'll try to -"

"You're nervous" Daniel repeated at the Colonels rapid fire rambling reply, trying not to smile at the almost childlike excitement Mitchell had been full of since starting missions at the SGC.

"I am _not_ nervous" Cameron retorted with a look of irritation on his face.

"Really…" Daniel commented with a quizzical tilt of his head. "So you always have four teaspoons of sugar in your coffee?"

The sound of the metallic spoon stirring inside the ceramic mug stopped dead at Daniel observation, Mitchell himself froze for a split second before removing and tossing the spoon back onto the mugs saucer.

"So I like a sweet cup of caffeine in the morning. What's wrong with that?"

"Oh nothing, nothing at all" Daniel replied with something approaching, but not quite sincerity in his voice as he raised his own cup of juice in salute. "So, cheers"…

Slowly, if with great dignity, Cameron Mitchell raised the mug, tapped it against Daniels cup and moved it back, inching towards his mouth with everyone at the table trying not to snicker…and was just about to sip his first taste when-

"All senior personal report to your duty stations, Colonel Pendergast to the bridge"-

-the bridge duty officer broke in over the PA and everyone in the mess immediately stopped what they were doing and headed for the door.

_Oh so close _Daniel sighed to himself.

Well, there was always lunch…

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_**  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

As Lee Adama swung the bulkhead door of the pilots' locker room open, he was confronted with a sound he could not recall having ever heard inside brightly lit room. More curious was the fact that as he glanced left and right down the rows of lockers, the room appeared to be empty.

Then the half grunting, half snarling noise gave way to a guttural string of curses that left no doubt as to the source of the strange sound. Closing the door behind him, Lee strode deeper into the room and quickly found Kara Thrace fighting mightily with her formal dress uniform, lurching back and forth as she tried to direct her shoulder joints to move in a sufficiently unnatural enough way to get her arm through the sleeve of her jacket. Trying not to smile, he stepped up behind her and pulled the bunched up sleeve she was fighting with straight, holding it long enough for her to slide her arm down and pull the jacket on.

"Thanks" she nodded with a glance before she reached inside the locker to pull out her tan Sash. "Gods I hate this thing".

Lee smiled slightly at her discomfort. Starbuck was a pilot's pilot through and through. Ever since she had graduated from the academy, she had done her damn best to stay out of any uniform outside her flight suit. Years of training by his father had eventually (if grudgingly) gotten her increasingly to wear her deep blue duty uniform when away from her cockpit, but he knew she still detested the deep brown and grey formal uniform of a Colonial Officer.

If she currently hated it because traditionally she had only worn it to receive abuse from a board of inquiry, or, because of the more recent times she had been forced to don it as she said goodbye to the dwindling number of senior pilots on Galactica, he didn't know.

And would never ask.

"Here let me help you with that" he offered as she started to fiddle with the twisted sash, riding from her left shoulder to meet the belt at her right hip. Stepping behind her, he sighed as he saw somehow, against all probability and the laws of physics; she had managed to twist the tough ribbon into some kind of a knot that appeared to have neither a start nor an end to it.

"How the frak did you manage this?" he asked conversationally as probed the threads, feeling a little give in one of the loops which he started to tug free

"The hell if I know" she shrugged, the gesture muted by the tight grip of the sash. "Shoved it in here after that big bash the Old Man threw after we all got back from Kobol".

"You mean of course after you tried to drink half the ships pilots and deck crew under the table" he retorted, trying for a light tone…and failing miserably as he saw her shoulders tense.

"You have something to say to me Lee?" she asked the locker bluntly.

He sighed mentally as he succeeded in loosening the knot and started to play out the sash. Kara was simultaneously his little sister, big sister, best pilot, subordinate officer, insubordinate officer _and_ best friend. It made it completely impossible to force her obedience when _he_ wanted it or to stop her disobedience when _she_ wanted it.

Short of shooting her anyway, but he held the solution advocated by Colonel Tigh in deep reserve for now.

"I'm worried about you Kara".

"Oh here we go again" she sighed, turning around with an irritated look on her face. "Look I've got better-"

"Gaeta told me you've been bugging him about getting all of our airspace and terrain records of the Martok Valley, the area around Delphi, the-"

"Frak Lee, just come out and _say_ it" she demanded in irritation, straightening the creases her in sash and without looking, slamming her locker shut with just a little more force then was really needed.

"Alright" Lee shrugged, abandoning the subtle approach. "You're trying to plan a long range rescue mission for the people left behind Caprica, specifically, Samuel Anders and his resistance group".

"And?" she demanded, her eyes suddenly blazing in a way that always sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

"And I think it's a good idea" he replied.

Kara's face didn't openly change, but with a blink, the molten anger in her eyes vanished to be replaced with a mix of confusion and suspicion in equal measures, focused on him rather then the wall behind him for the first time in their conversation.

"You do."

"I do. I was talking to Karl and frankly we can't forget about the fact that-"

"You didn't talk to Helo" she pointed out.

"I didn't talk to Helo" he conceded. "But just listen to me…for once" he asked, backing up and flopping down onto a bench running between the rows of lockers. Kara stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed and dropped down next to him.

"The Commander will never go for any mission back to Caprica".

"See that's why I decided to try and actually work up a plan _before_ having you and Tigh decide it would be impossible-".

"Yeah Kara can you just listen to me for _one second_?" Lee demanded, trying not to roll his eyes. "We're over two hundred jumps from the Colonies. It'd take months to head back, deep into Cylon controlled space. AND to get back out again, this wouldn't be a one way trip. Running down our supplies the whole time, even assuming the Cylons don't fire a shot at us which I doubt, all for a couple hundred civvies?"

His offhand dismissal of the resistance fighters jerked her head around and anger started to flare in her eyes again

"Those 'civvies' have stayed on our _home,_ defending it from the toasters while we've doing out best to run with our tails between our legs for the last seven Months" she all but spat out.

"And I can't say and _didn't _say any of us could have done better" Lee replied shapely. "But regardless of what we owe our people back home, you're asking the Old Man to risk forty thousand people for what, forty? Even assuming the President agrees to it? Which I don't find likely given her response to you back down on Kobol…"

Despite the glare she was broadcasting towards him, Lee could see Kara's formidable strategic planning abilities had brought her to the exact same conclusion every time she had put pen to paper…and the frustration as her promise to come back for them slowly became impossible was killing her.

"Of course, things might be different now" Lee allowed in the heavy silence.

It only took Kara two seconds to realize where he was going.

"The Thirteenth."

"The Thirteenth" Lee agreed. "Yesterday, Roslyn talked about the whole Tomb of Athena on Kobol, that Jackson guy was really interested in the story behind it, including your side trip back to Caprica to get it."

"And the resistance"

"And the Cylons center for…"

"Rape" she supplied bluntly, her expression carved from ice.

"..At the Farm" Lee continued, hastily moving past _that_ particular horror. "Colonel Mitchell didn't make any secret of the fact that he wanted to meet you after your…uh…comments to him" he supplied, trying not to smile at the softening of her expression into one of mild embarrassment. "But think about it. If we can get to Earth, or even find somewhere beyond the reach of the Cylons to park the civilians. With real allies to work with-"

"Everything changes" she finished the thought, for the first time since she had come back aboard Galactica, Lee swore he saw a faint flicker of hope pass through her eyes and it was all he could do not to cheer.

"This has to be the most insane idea I have ever heard of"

Thirty meters away from the two pilots talking in one locker room, two more people were also busy arguing over the thought process of the current military and political leadership of the fleet, with similar degrees of skepticism…and a whole lot more of panic.

Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla couldn't help but giggle at the look of shear terror on the face of Billy Keikeya as she struggled to get the black tie sitting correctly over the spotted shirt he had chosen for today. Like many other people in the fleet, Billy had been left with barely two full changes of clothes after the Cylons had blasted the twelve colonies to rubble. Unlike most of the people in the fleet however, Billy as an assistant to the President had as a matter of course packed a decent suit that had survived well over the months in space, helped along by regular access to the laundry on board the Galactica.

"I'm just the Presidents assistant! I'm not a diplomat!" Billy continued to protest in vain as Dualla continued to work his collar, stopping occasionally to look over his outfit with a critical eye.

"Well I'm afraid we're fresh out of diplomats" Dee smiled before deciding the tie was as good as it was going to get, stepping back to retrieve his jacket from where he had draped it over the bench. "But I've seen you handle the Press on Colonial One".

"You're joking Dee. Every time I have to talk to those…people…" Billy said, "I feel like I'm either going to throw up or faint…today…well, I think I'm going to do both".

"Well the head's down to the right" Dee shrugged with a vague gesture at the bulkhead. "I'd try to get the throwing up done before you get on the Raptor".

"Ha. Ha ha. Har. You're in fine form today" he muttered sounding all too sorry for himself as he eased into the jacket she was holding out for him. "The only reason I've been tapped for this is because it's still too risky to put either the President or Vice President at risk, no-one trusts Zerak - and by extension the Quorum of Twelve -. In a nutshell, I'm expandable".

Dee's eyes suddenly flashed in anger at his estimation of his value.

"The only reason you were tapped for this is because _everyone_ trusts you" she retorted pointedly, backing him up against a locker with a look that was almost angry, directed at him. "You're smart, loyal, honest and brave and probably the only senior person in the fleet who doesn't have either an agenda, or, a freighter filled with emotional baggage tagging along behind them".

Billy couldn't help but smile sheepishly at her fierce look and almost instinctive rebuttal of his self doubt. While the horror of the Cylon Genocide was burned into his mind and probably would never go away, he knew more then anything else that Dee had been the one thing that had kept him from cracking up over the long march away from the radioactive slag of their civilization.

And if this really was a ship to Earth, then perhaps that impossible future of them sitting on some beach drinking ambrosia wasn't quite so much of a dream anymore…

"You forgot devilishly Handsome" he pointed out with a huge grin, causing her to roll her eyes…then grab his head and smoother her lips over his.

For a split second he wondered if he had taken in enough oxygen before she had attached her face to live for more then twenty seconds.

Then the split second ended and he realized he didn't actually _care,_ as he wrapped his arms around her and simply enjoyed her presence-

"Uh…we can come back later if this isn't a good time" a voice suddenly broke in from the bulkhead door, sending the enlisted officer and Personal assistant to go rapidly disengage, before turning to look at the figures of Starbuck and Apollo at the bulkhead door.

"Oh I can go and tell the Earth guys to wait if you need more time" Starbuck offered, gesturing with a thumb in the general direction of the hanger bay, with an expression usually turned on fresh nuggets on her face. Even the normally stoic Apollo was clearly trying not to laugh out loud at the pair caught steeling a kiss in the locker room like school kids.

"Uh…that shouldn't be a problem Sirs" Dee said, grateful for her darker complexion and its ability to hide the flush of red creeping up on her face from being the two officers. "I uh…better get to CIC" she excused herself, racing past the pilots for the comparative safety of the ships command centre.

"Yeah and I uh…better get to the hanger deck…now" Billy added quickly as Dualla left the room, stepping up and swinging to door to the pilots room shut, before the trio started the relatively short walk through 'pilot country' to the Port hangers maintenance bay, Billy trying to stay close in the relatively crowded passages. He still found it all too easy to get lost on the Galactica where every passage looked identical to one five meters behind him, but the two Pilots unerringly turned the corner, passed through several internal airlocks, then descended a steep staircase, that in his mind qualified as a ladder, to land with a thump in the Viper maintenance / launching area.

A Raptor was sitting in the middle of the deck, facing the transit elevator with a tech crew swarming all over it. Frowning as he walked towards it, he couldn't help but think there was something odd about it…

Then it clicked. The thing looked _new_.

"Niiice" Starbuck hissed in appreciation as she vaulted up onto the Raptors port wing right next to Chief Tyrol. "Now _this_ is what a ship should look like".

"Just don't try to do anything _too_ crazy with her Capt'n" Tyrol warned her, running over part of the forward hull with a polishing cloth. "She may look brand new, but that's just cause we painted over the burn marks, scuff marks and beat the dents out of the hull…she's still the same old Girl".

"Well she's got a hell of a facelift" Starbuck shrugged, making approving noises as the state of the ships interior. "Thank the gang for me for getting her looking so good".

"Will do" he nodded, sliding off the wing to the deck with practiced ease. "Alright let's get her turned around, Cally, Jammer clear that ladder off, get that cart outa here, get moving people!"

As the deck crew sprang into action and the Officers talked among themselves, he found himself left alone standing next to the ship, wondering if there was still time to run to the nearest head and throw up before launch.

"You look a little pale" a familiar voice suddenly cut into his thoughts.Turning, he found President Laura Roslyn strolling towards him from a group that had just entered the hanger bay.

"Madam President…I thought you were with the Commander in his quarters talking about today's schedule…is there something you need clarification-"

"No no" she broke in with a smile and slight shake of her head. "We got it done fast enough for us to come down and see you off" she said, nodding to the figure of Commander Adama who had joined the small group of officers talking at the ships nose. "Are you going to be okay going on this mission?"

"I'm…fine" he replied, managing a weak smile. "It's just a little overwhelming. You know…I was never really sure about the prophecy or your role in it…hell I stayed with the fleet when you left for Kobol because I just didn't believe...so why am I here?"

"Billy" she sighed, guiding him away from the ship towards a more secluded area of the hanger, "you're here because you are more valuable to me than any 'true believer' could possibly be. Kara over there" she said with a nod at the Pilot who appeared to be in a glaring contest with Colonel Tigh as Commander Adama talked to the group, "is a true believer in Earth. She was willing to betray a man she loved like a Father when she went back to get the Arrow of Apollo. Lee" she added, nodding at the CAG, "believed in Democracy so much he drew a gun on Colonel Tigh, defied his Father and abandoned him for me, ignoring the fact that we've been making this whole thing up as we go along. And I…" she hesitated slightly, glancing around before looking into his eyes and pitching her voice for his ears only. "I gambled the survival of the entire human race on nothing more then faith. It turned out it was the right call to make…but the nightmares…oh Gods Billy, the Nightmares after we lost Elosha on Kobol to those Cylons…" she trailed off before breaking eye contact and looking at nothing. "Co-opting Thrace, confronting Adama…Billy, I set in motion a chain of events that almost caused our extinction. I, just as much as Adama, tore this fleet into shreds because I was too blind to see any other road".

Billy couldn't help but blink at this new side of the President. He had _never_ seen her second guess a decision after the fact like this before.

"But I learned something from all of this" she continued, turning back to him with a look of calm but iron resolve in her eyes. "I can't go on with nothing more then blind faith. I hope we've found Earth Billy, Gods I hope we have found Earth and the 13th. But I _need_ to see this through your eyes, to see skeptically what none of us" she gestured around at herself and the senior officers as they started to break up, "can easily see".

Billy slowly closed his mouth that had started to gape, stunned almost into silence as much over the role the President was asking for him to play as the trust she had clearly placed in him.

Then he straightened up and squared his shoulders, feeling the unease that had hung over him this morning fading. If the President valued his insights that much, he wasn't going to let her down.

"I'll keep my eyes open Madam President" he smiled slightly.

"Wide open Billy" she smiled, looking over his shoulder. "And I think you're due to leave".

Billy turned to find Starbuck finishing snapping a salute to the Commander before jumping up onto the Raptors wing, glancing in his direction and jerking her head at the ship. Nodding back, he turned to shake the Presidents offered hand and stepped up after her, the hatch swinging down behind him.

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 13, 2005.  
**

"Lieutenant, what've we got?"

The junior officer sitting in the Captains chair promptly stood as Pendergast led SG1 and his senior officers into the ships command centre, followed by the junior officers at the forward stations surrendering their places to the senior Lieutenants Marks and Womack as they in turn followed in the Colonels Wake.

"Incoming signal from the Galactica sir. They say they are ready to launch their delegation at out convenience".

"Doctor, are you ready?" Pendergast asked the SG1 member as he accepted the center seat

"No, but I'm not going to get any _more_ ready" Daniel replied with a shrug.

"Good enough" Pendergast said with a wry smile. "Marks, signal the Galactica we're ready".

"Yes Sir" the Lieutenant nodded, tapping a pair of buttons and opening a channel. "Galactica, Prometheus. We are ready to receive your delegation".

Cameron walked up to the front of the bridge, where the glass windows (actually a very tough composite substance that had almost nothing in common with glass on the molecular level) presented a grand view of the ships of the fleet. Prometheus was holding station behind and above the bulk of the Galactica, with most of the civilian ships situated on the far side of the huge warship, but she was holding station close enough to study Galactica with the naked eye.

The steel-grey hull of the Galactica was scared and pitted with a mixture of gashes and burn marks that stood as a mute testament to the genocidal pursuit of the Cylon forces. Sections of the odd ribbing that covered the ships hull had been chipped and cracked and with a little magnification (he mourned the fact that Prometheus hadn't been equipped with the advanced holographic overlays the newer _Daedalus_ class ships had) he knew he would be able to see a patchwork of hull plates welded over breaches like giant scars.

For all the damage she had taken though, the ship still looked utterly deadly. Soft running lights still highlighted the proud colonial symbol towards her bow on the dorsal surface, as well as the eight massive cannons sitting locked in rest positions that bracketed it. Tiny pinpoints of light moved around her and the distant fleet, shuttles and transports flirting between the orbiting starships along with the occasional fighter. All of them were no doubt tagged and tracked by Prometheus's sophisticated sensor systems…but there was something wondrous about simply sitting and watching the play of lights.

Wait. One light was growing larger.

"Sir we have an incoming contact" Marks spoke up just before Mitchell was about to open his mouth. "Size and profile matches a Colonial Raptor transport/attack ship".

"Weapons?" Pendergast asked, leaning forward in his chair and glancing over towards Marks console as he worked.

"Sensors indicate the Raptor is equipped with external hard points, probably for munitions. I'm not detecting anything loaded, no internal weapons either" Marks reported, activating the ships main screen without being asked and projecting a rotating wireframe of the sensor contact on it. Mitchell stepped away from the window to the left side of the bridge, whistling in appreciation as he looked over the sharp lines of the ship. The angular and vaguely threatening ship looked to him like something of a cross between a Russian Mi-35 _Hind _Gunship and an American A-10 _Warthog_.

He fell in love with it instantly.

"Now that's a sweet looking ride. I wonder if we could get a license to start building those things from these guys".

"Don't worry" Daniel said with a wry smile. "I'm sure the IOA will ask me to ask them".

"Sam" Pendergast continued, tapping a button on his armchair with a knuckle, "what's the status in the hanger bay?"

"We've just about cleared the deck Sir" Sam replied from several hundred meters away in the starboard flight control office. The tiny room at the rear the flight pod was well placed, with reinforced half meter thick windows looking down the length of the bay, which ordinarily would be lined with a quartet of F-302 interceptors and infrastructure that supported them. She exchanged a thumbs up with the deck chief as he led the last personnel into the common maintenance/storage area between the hanger pods, just behind the final F-302 rolling along on its undercarriage.

"Check that Sir, the deck has been cleared" she amended her statement. Clearing the decks had been her idea, to ensure there wasn't any valuable equipment inside the relatively cramped hanger bay. It wasn't so much that she suspected the Colonials were looking to blow anything up, but as a slight miscalculation could write off a two hundred and eighty million dollar fighter craft quite easily and Prometheus had already lost one 302 in this mission. It probably wasn't a good idea to risk increasing the number of replacements Colonel Pendergast would have to ask General O'Neill for.

"Good work Sam" Pendergast replied from the bridge. Reaching for the hanger bay door controls, Sam paused suddenly in thought.

"Sir, do we want to keep the bay pressurized?"

"_That's_ a good question" Mitchell asked as he glanced at the approaching Raptor, which was rapidly growing in size.

"Well they're going to find out about our shield technology sooner or later" Daniel pointed out, "assuming they haven't worked it out already. I mean the whole purpose of these meetings is to try and find stuff out about each other isn't it?"

"Mans got a point Sir" Cam shrugged at Pendergast. "We have to start trusting each other at some point".

"Alright" Pendergast nodded with some reluctance. He wasn't exactly happy with the whole idea of a guided tour of his ship to people they had barely met, but it was a fair point after Daniel and Mitchell had been on board Galactica. "Use the shield and keep the bay pressurized. From what I recall, Galactica's hanger bay had artificial gravity reduced somewhat?"

"Yes Sir, roughly twenty percent of one G" Sam supplied.

"Reset the starboard hanger to match that level" he ordered, standing as he talked and nodding towards the door to Daniel and Mitchell. "Marks, take charge and monitor the situation, tell the Raptor to head on in, we're going down to the hanger".

"Yes Sir" Marks replied, trying not to smile. Pendergast had been dropping hints that there was a good chance his next performance review was tied to promotion to Captains rank. Leaving the bridge and telling _him_ to talk to the incoming ship was, in his opinion, yet another sign that that second bar on his flight suit was getting close…

So long as he didn't catastrophically screw this up of course.

Wiping suddenly perspiring hands on his flight suit, he decided to double check that the ships engines were in station keeping and the weapons systems were powered down…

**Colonial Raptor 478  
Inbound, Battle Cruiser **_**Prometheus**_  
**Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

"It's not as big as I thought it would be" Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson stated suddenly as Prometheus grew in the front window of the Raptor. Sitting next to her in the co-pilots seat, Kara Thrace wondered if the Lieutenant was simply stating something for herself, or expected a response. Deciding in the end that the later was, regrettably, much more likely, she snorted slightly.

"It's big enough to spank Base Ships and take everything they can throw at it without much of a problem" Starbuck pointed out dryly, not taking her eyes off the growing silver profile off their bow.

"I hear that" Edmondson agreed, a satisfied, almost hungry grin etched onto her face. "Here's to hoping the toasters try to frak with her again sometime soon".

"Just fly the ship Racetrack" Starbuck ordered with a roll of her eyes somewhat sharply, before wondering at the edge in her own voice. She didn't know if she was so nervous because of the mission she had been assigned or, more likely, because she hated flying _in_ a ship she wasn't in control of.

But in either case, it was hardly the poor girls fault.

"Incoming Colonial Raptor, this is the Prometheus, please respond".

Kara sat up straight as the loud male voice came over the cockpit speakers, opening her mouth to reply on instinct before remembering she _wasn't_ wearing a flight suit and helmet, with its voice activated microphone.

Racetrack shot her an amused look, having caught the gesture before turning back and triggering her own microphone.

"Prometheus this is Colonial Raptor four seven eight, call sign Racetrack".

"Raptor four seven eight, you are cleared to dock, follow the lights in, gravity has been reset to match that of Galactica's landing bays".

"Understood Prometheus and thank you" Racetrack acknowledged before turning past Kara to glance into the back of the Raptor.

"Hey Billy, come up and take a look at this" she shouted through her helmet.

Billy unstrapped himself from the sensor specialist's seat in the rear of the Raptor and moved forward, ducking down between the two women as he reached the front and looked critically at the growing ship with eyes that didn't miss a thing.

_Prometheus_ from bow on wasn't a very imposing looking ship in Kara's mind. It was still quite large compared to most of the civilian ships in the fleet, perhaps three times the length of Colonial One, but compared to the military ships she had seen throughout her carrier, it _might_ classify as a frigate at best by strict size. If it wasn't for the fact that yesterday she had seen this ship take the worst _five _Base ships could throw out and laugh, she wouldn't have thought it a very impressive looking ship.

But she couldn't help but remember that old Colonial saying about the dangers of making a mistaken first impression…

_As_ the ships bow came close enough to start making out fine details, running lights came on along the starboard side of the ship, flashing in sequence down her flank towards what was probably a hanger bay, a guess confirmed by the large bullhead that was opening up.

"Well I think that qualifies as an invitation" Racetrack commented with a note in her voice that didn't sound right. Looking over, Starbuck saw from the way she gripped the controls that Racetrack was probably more nervous then she was.

"You okay?"

"More or less" she replied. "Just that the last time I flew onto a strange alien ship was with Boomer onto that Base Ship at Kobol…some freaky stuff went on in there".

"Uh huh" Kara grunted, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. If she hadn't run off to Caprica with the Raider they had planed to use to drop off the nuke in the first place, she couldn't help but wonder if Boomers hidden programming would have been activated in the first place...

Snapping her focus back on mission, she pushed _that_ thought away. If she hadn't gone back, they wouldn't have gotten to this point in finding Earth anyway.

And hell, that damn toaster might have still put two shots into the Old Man and done a much better job of it this time.

"Man that thing looks shiny" Billy said in appreciation as Prometheus slowly filled the right hand side of the cockpit window.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Starbuck asked.

"Sorry, I mean, all the ships in the fleet, even the ones that haven't been shot up, have picked up burn marks, dents, scratches , you know, just generally been scuffed up from space junk or near misses or whatever. That thing looks brand new".

Like it or not, Starbuck had to admit he had a point. Without access to a shipyard and precious little spare parts to waste on fixing minor problems, the ships of the fleet had slowly accumulated a great number of dents and scars. Galactica of course looked the worst, but minor chips to her heavy armor were rightly considered to be little more then cosmetic concerns at this point.

Prometheus however…every hull plate she saw looked damn near brand new. She couldn't help but feel slightly jealous as the nose of the ship slid past their right, Racetrack pulsing the forward thrusters to slow them down.

"Uh Starbuck…am I going crazy or are there people, standing in hard vacuum, without spacesuits?"

Frowning, Starbuck followed her gaze…and sure enough, standing inside the bay that was open to space was a small group of people. Looking down and flicking the ECO's display to active, she brought up the long range camera for a better image…and…yup they were standing in hard vacuum in nothing more then fancy dress clothes.

"No your not and yes they are" Kara replied in amazement. She couldn't' begin to try and work out what was going on and decided not to try for fear of getting a headache. "We're going in anyway".

"Right" Racetrack said after a pause, shaking off bad memories of Boomer charging back into their Raptor above Kobol…without a helmet on. "Lock the gear out, switchover to landing" Racetrack ordered, hitting the thrusters again for more deceleration as they approached the edge of the hanger.

"Gear out, thrusters to landing config" Starbuck echoed, depressing the appropriate switches. "Landing lights?"

"Don't need them" Racetrack replied, noting how bright the bay was and trying not to blink. Colonial Battlestars kept their bays quite dim, with only navigational lights for guidance on the assumption that with a pilot's eyes adjusted to the darkness of space, a sudden bright light on final approach could end up causing 'bad things'. But Raptors cockpits were generally kept at higher levels of illumination anyway, so she doubted she would have any problems.

"Okay here we go, nice and easy". The Raptor passed through the edge of the hanger-

And they were suddenly inside an atmosphere.

The noise of the Raptors engines was now accompanied by the unmistakable roar of them echoing off the wall of the hanger; transmitted through air which the life support board on Starbucks panel suddenly declared existed around them, a standard nitrogen / oxygen mixture in fact.

Despite the lack of any visible means of it being contained

"Switching to hover, bringing us around" Racetrack managed to get out, forcing the surprise but welcome presence of air to the side for now, rotating the Raptor to point back at the physics defying exit from the hanger, pulsing the main thrusters once to kill all momentum. "Setting her down…" she continued, her eyes clued to the decreasing distance numbers measured by a laser in the nose skid…and with a loud thud, the Raptor was down.

"Raptor Four Seven Eight" the voice from Prometheus immediately came back over the wireless. "We are ramping gravity back to Earth normal, welcome aboard".

"Thank you Prometheus, Four Seven Eight out" Racetrack replied before shutting the channel as she brought the Raptors engines into standby mode, looking over at the life support board. Sure enough, the twin vertical bars denoting internal and external gravity were again approaching each others positions…though curiously, the external bar stopped a little short.

"Looks like Earth has a lower level of gravity" Racetrack commented, nodding towards the readings.

"Only about a six percent variation" Starbuck shrugged as she undid her restraints and stood up, folding up the navigation console between the pilot and copilot seats to ease aft. "It's not like we're going to be jumping over trees in a single bounce or anything". Stepping up to the hatch, she spared a glance at Billy who stood waiting.

"Ready?"

"Not really" he replied with a smile.

"That's the spirit" she declared, thumping the door control with her fist.

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 13, 2005.  
**

With a deep thump, the hatch on the Colonial Raptor unlocked and slowly started to rise. Cameron Mitchell gave up trying to adjust the collar on his Class-A jacket and relaxed into a parade rest stance. After he had smashed his F-302 up at the South Pole, most of his personal effects stored on board or at Area-51 had been shipped home, but for some reason he didn't try to understand this uniform and a few odds and ends from his old locker had been shoved into a storage crate and put into the ships cargo bay.

Pendergast, damn him, had reminded him of its existence last night and had it pulled and washed, ready by the time he had leapt out of bed to the screaming of his wakeup alarm.

His 'salad bar' of awards and campaign ribbons was missing the blue with white stars bar of the Medal of Honor he was now entitled to wear, but _that_ bar along with the medal itself was sitting safely at his house, locked in his safe. Until the SGC went public, any military officer seeing _that_ on his uniform would raise far too many questions that couldn't be easily answered.

Pendergast of course wore his own Class-A uniform and stood on Mitchell's left. Daniel on his right was fiddling with the cufflinks on his Armani suit that no Egyptologist could come close to affording without looting a few tombs over his carrier…or eight years of combat pay that did little more then sit in a bank account gaining interest.

And last there were the two SF's standing a few meters away in woodland pattern BDU's - with mate black M9 Berretta pistols on their hips – who broke up the formality somewhat.

The wing/door on the Raptor locked in place, revealing a woman wearing what had to be the Colonial equivalent of a Class-A uniform, along with a man in a fairly conventional looking formal jacket, probably a civilian. The woman, no doubt this was Lieutenant Kara Thrace, took in the small welcoming party as she hopped up onto the ships wing, then walked out and dropped lightly to the deck in front of Pendergast, snapping a salute, which Pendergast and Mitchell both returned.

"Lieutenant Kara Thrace, Colonial Fleet".

"Colonel Lionel Pendergast, United States Air Force" the ships CO replied, extending his hand, which Thrace took with aplomb. "It is a pleasure to have you on board".

"The pleasure is all mine Colonel" she replied with a smile. "As one of the pilots out in that fight yesterday, your presence and high yield nuclear weapons are most welcome".

Pendergast smiled slightly; this was no diplomat in front of him, she sounded just as cocky as any of his egomaniac pilots on board…which made Mitchell the perfect person to pair her up with. Her companion on the other hand…

Thrace must have seen his look and quickly stepped back to make some room.

"Billy Keikeya" he said, leaning forward to pump Pendergast's offered hand with a smile. "Special assistant to the President".

"Please to meet you Mister Keikeya" the Colonel nodded, thinking his presence over. Part of the reason he had agreed to the Colonials sending a second person to complement Thrace was because they had allowed two, but mostly on Jackson's advice to see who they sent, giving no instructions on who they may prefer.

The fact that they had sent a civilian was a good indicator that the fleet wasn't run by a military junta. And even though he knew this Thrace held a relatively low rank, Mitchell and Daniel were unanimously of the opinion from their talks yesterday that she held a great deal of influence with the higher ups in the fleet…and he guessed the same was true of the President and this Billy Keikeya.

"May I present Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell and Doctor Daniel Jackson?" he continued, gesturing to the two men standing next to him.

Starbuck stepped to her left to face Mitchell, the two sizing each other up before she extended her hand.

"Colonel" she nodded.

"Lieutenant" he nodded back.

"I uh want apologize if I was out of line yesterday with that comment as you flew over to the Galactica".

"No problems at all" he assured her feeling slightly awkward but trying to strive for a calm and cool tone. "So your callsign…"

"Starbuck" she supplied with a slight smile.

"Starbuck" he agreed. "Anything to do with caffeinated beverages?"

Daniel Jackson closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten.

"Don't worry" Mitchell grinned at her slightly confused look. I'll explain later".

"I uh look forward to it" she said with a somewhat confused look on her face, moving on to Daniel as her place was taken by Billy.

"Colonel" Keikeya put in cheerfully, shaking his hand with energy as Starbuck and Daniel exchanged friendly banter. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you and Doctor Jackson yesterday, I was somewhat busy running errands for the President".

"Our appearance has made things a little complicated?" Mitchell asked with an apologetic look.

"Oh, it's always one crisis after another" Billy replied with an amenable shrug. "The President is busy right now trying to muzzle the Press as best she can. Those…people" he said - hesitating as if he found it hard to admit members of the press were of the same species as he – "are as excited as the rest of us at meeting people from Earth. We've been looking for you for a long time".

"So the Commander and President told me yesterday" Mitchell nodded, exchanging a slight glance with Pendergast. This whole deal with Daniel and Earths offer could easily go either way. They had in fact debated waiting until one of the few qualified (and security cleared) State Department officials could get out in the next few days instead of putting it all on the Doctors shoulders, but in the end had decided that they needed to move quickly before the tension in the fleet spilt over.

"I assume everything is ready for Doctor Jackson?"

"Oh, yes, of course" Billy nodded. "He has a meeting with the President, Commander Adama and a few select people, then we'll have the press going live to the fleet over the wireless in a question and answer session".

"Hey you hear that Doc?" Mitchell grinned, turning to face the Doctor. "You get to go LIVE to forty thousand people".

"Super" he said with a smile on his face, but an absolutely flat tone in his voice. "Well I guess I'd better not put it off any longer…"

"Just this way" Starbuck said with a wave at the raptor, expertly jumping back onto the gleaming ship and ducking into the passenger cabin, Daniel following somewhat more carefully. She got him strapped into the seat at the rear console, helping him put on a rather clunky looking (in Mitchell's opinion) headset before exchanging a few words with the out of sight pilot before pressing the button to shut the door, ducking under it and back onto the hanger deck.

"Better stand back" Pendergast commented to everyone, nodding his head in the direction of the side of the bay and a series of handholds mounted on the hanger wall. "Sam, move the gravity back down to the Galactica level" Pendergast ordered as the six personnel took a firm hold.

The two SF's making sure to keep their gun hands free of course.

"Marks, clear the Raptor for takeoff as soon as Colonel Carter is done".

"Yes Sir" Marks responded from the Bridge, echoed a second later by the Colonel from the flight control office, which in turn was followed by a ball of lead forming in his stomach as the pull of the gravity generators under the decking slackened off.

The Raptor in front of them fired its thrusters, somewhat unsteadily (well at least compared to a puddle jumper Mitchell thought, which was probably a _little_ unfair), lifting its bulk above the deck before other thruster assemblages kicked in to send it down the hanger bay, igniting its main engines as it pulled into space and shooting away towards the distant bulk of Galactica.

"Okay, lock it up Sam" Pendergast finished as the gravity was carefully ramped back up. Immediately, the huge bulkhead door at the end of the bay started to slide back into place.

"I hope I'm not out of line asking this" Starbuck said as the group released their handholds, still staring at the shrinking drive trail of the Raptor. "But uh…"

"How are we keeping the bay pressurized without a door on the end?" Mitchell guessed.

Starbuck just nodded, her expression looking very interested.

"Well, I know someone who can probably explain it better then me" he allowed as one of the doors close by on the hanger bay opened and Sam strode out. "Lieutenant Thrace, meet Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter".

The two Women exchanged salutes, then handshakes.

"And you can drop the salutes and the whole formality thing, we're really not that formal over here" Mitchell added.

"Thank the Gods for that" Starbuck muttered. "I think I was going to sprain my wrist".

The group shared polite laughter for a second before Mitchell echoed Starbucks question to Sam.

"Well" she said, pointing down to the end of the hanger, "the end of the bay is sealed off by an energy shield. It allows large objects like ships out, but holds the atmosphere in and keeps most hard radiation out". The door shut with a loud crack, and a sheet of white static flickered for a second before vanishing as the force field shut down.

"That's uh…wow" was all Starbuck could say, her mind reeling over the technology. Billy said nothing, but his expression was rather impressed.

"You aint seen nothing yet" Mitchell assured her, gesturing to the bulkhead door and pilot country.

**Colonial Raptor 478  
Inbound, Battle Cruiser **_**Prometheus**_  
**Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

"Is everything alright Doctor Jackson?"

As 'Racetrack' asked him the same question for probably the fifth time in their short flight, Daniel favored her with a smile, deciding not to complain about the rather chilly temperature of the cabin given how short the flight would be.

"Still fine back here" he replied over the headset, keeping a good grip on the console in front of him as the Raptor shifted around. He realized he had been spoiled flying in ships with inertial dampening technology all his life, _this_ ship transferred every jolt of a thruster, every pulse of the engine, turning even the short ride into something of an eventful rollercoaster trip.

Jack would have loved it.

"Raptor Four-Seven-Eight Galactica, you are cleared for approach. Speed one six five, port bay, hands on approach checkers green, call the ball".

"I have the Ball" Racetrack replied to the call from Galactica, before turning her head slightly towards the rear of the Raptor. "Hang on Doctor, we'll be down in a few seconds".

Glancing through the gap where a ships copilot presumably sat, he could just make out the growing curve of the Gaalctica's hanger pod and decided that he would not risk a reply at this point. He had read that most aircraft accidents occurred within 90 seconds of takeoff or landing. And while he was technically on a spacecraft, as the takeoff and landing were within 90 seconds of each other he had decided it was probably not a good idea to tempt the statistics Gods by distracting his pilot.

He felt a jolt of thrusters firing, caught a blur of motion out the front of walls around the Raptor as it pitched around, then a jolt as it connected with the deck.

"Raptor Four-Seven-Eight, skids down, mag secure. Transferring deck 12-B, welcome back".

Racetrack started to undo her restraints and Daniel took that as a sign that it was safe to do the same to his. As she moved out of her seat and headed aft, he could see the hanger bay vanishing into a familiar looking elevator shaft as he pulled off his headset and handed it back to Racetrack, who did not immediately return to her seat.

"Doctor Jackson, forgive me if I'm being too forward…but what is Earth like?"

"Well" he hesitated, thinking about what he could safely say that wouldn't result in some kind of blowback along the grape vine.

"Earth has great cities and small towns, oceans and deserts, forests and planes, rich and poor" he shrugged. "There are countless cultures and nations that make up the people of Earth as a whole, each with their own beliefs and customs…and we haven't always gotten along through history, even till today. From what I hear, it's a similar story with the Colonies".

"Oh, you can say that again Doctor" Racetrack replied dryly as she pulled off her helmet, sweat sticking hair to her face before she brushed it away with her free hand. "I mean we created the Cylons to kill each other thinking we were so smart. Then the damn toasters ended up almost exterminating us. I guess some things are the same everywhere".

"It's in your nature to destroy yourselves" Daniel muttered under his breath as a stray thought connected in his mind.

"Doctor?" Racetrack asked with a confused look on her face.

"Sorry" he said with an apologetic look on his face. "I was just thinking out loud".

"Of course" she said as the Raptor jolted to a stop at the bottom of the elevator, quickly moving back to the front of the ship and leaving Daniel along with his thoughts. Daniel was just as glad that she had not pressed him on his statement. He had no doubt she would, unfortunately, find far too much common ground with the story of _Terminator 2_, of the robots that did their best to destroy human kind in an orgy of nuclear fire after becoming self aware.

Yet he couldn't help but wonder at the Cylons and the Colonials. He had seen hate on so many worlds passed down from generation to generation for no other reason then it was all they knew. Jonas Quinn himself had himself come from a planet of nations that had been at war, as far as Daniel was able to work out, simply because they had _always__been_ at war.

At least until five million men women and children had been vaporized in the fireball of the Kelownan Naquadriah bomb.

Yet for all the horror and destruction they had gone through, the Langarians were starting to work together. Centuries of hate couldn't be washed away overnight, but in each of his infrequent visits back to the SGC, Jonas had been increasingly optimistic that things were truly changing on his planet, with the average person just wanting the killing to end.

Oh sure it had taken an invasion by Anubis, then threat of the entire planet shattering to get to this point across, but once the Kelownan's Terranian's and Andarian's had actually started to try and work together…

He doubted the Cyolons and Colonials would even sit in the same room at the moment, if Racetrack was a typical example of sentiment (not that he could exactly blame them). But he had seen impossible tasks done before…

"Doctor Jackson?" He looked up quickly when he realized Racetrack was looking back at him, and that the Raptor had come to a stop.

"Yes, sorry?"

"Doctor, we're here" she smiled slightly. "You uh might want to brace yourself; you have a bit of a reception committee waiting for you".

"Oh. Goody" he replied in a friendly voice, trying not to wince as she hit the door control. The bulkhead rose in front of him as he stood –

And lights exploded into his eyes.

He managed to stop the reflexive movement of his hand to shield his eyes as lights in front of him strobbed. In between the flashes, he managed to make out a dozen or two people in front of him with what he presumed to be cameras, blasting him in rapid fire.

"Doctor Jackson, this way" a familiar voice called. Turning, to the right and placing the blasting cameras out of his eyes, he was able to see President Roslyn standing alone and off to the side of the Raptor. Putting on his best smile, he carefully stepped onto the Raptors wing and dropped lightly to the deck, moving his attaché case to his left hand and extending his right hand to meet hers.

"Madam President, its good to be back" he said through the polite smile he had carefully placed on his face.

"And it is good to have you back Doctor" she returned, also through a rather impressive looking smile. Almost by mutual consent, the two continued to shake hands and turned to face the pack of cameras, which Daniel now saw were safely behind some kind of roped off area.

"Well if you will come with me Doctor, we have much to discuss" Roslyn said, again mostly for the benefit of the few video cameras in the crowd, giving a final wave before she led him away through a bulkhead door that a marine quickly shut behind them.

"Well _that_ was fun" Daniel said in the relatively calm lighting of the passage. "Can we do it again?"

Roslyn looked at him as if he had just asked if they could invite the Cylons over for a light lunch, before realizing the facetious nature of his comments and starting to laugh.

"Oh, I am sorry for having to put you through that Doctor" she chuckled, "but I'm afraid the press insisted on some 'candid' pictures as you arrived".

"Not a problem" Daniel assured her. "But I was surprised to see you meeting me alone without Commander Adama".

"Politics" she supplied as she nodded to a nearby Marine and started to follow him, Daniel falling into step. "Tom Zerak has been making a lot of noise about our first meetings all taking place with heavy military involvement. I'm sorry to say that there was a degree of recent…friction between the fleets military and civilian leaderships".

"So you wanted to show that you were in the drivers' seat in front of the press" Daniel guessed shrewdly, bemoaning that once again the twin universal (or inter-universal) constants of politics and power had reared their heads.

"More or less" she agreed as they reached a familiar door with two Marines standing outside, one of whom spun the locking wheel and pulled the door open as he saw them approach.

"Doctor Jackson" Commander Adama said, rising to his feet along with Colonel Tigh and eventually Gauis Baltar as they entered. "Please" Adama said, gesturing to a seat. As before, a series of tables had been formed into something of a U shape. This time, a single table had been placed into the area encompassed by the rest of the tables, facing the four seats at the base of the U. As Roslyn took her place with her three companions, Daniel strode around to what was clearly his seat and sat, dumping his attaché case onto the table and starting to open it.

"Well" the President started once she had settled down, "we have a few hours before the press conference is due to start. If it is acceptable with you, we'd like to hold it over on the Cloud Nine. It is a civilian ship that has facilities better suited to such an event".

Daniel had a sneaking suspicion that this had much more to do with the political maneuvering Roslyn had gone out of her way to mention to him, but simply nodded politely.

No, that would be fine, providing I could let the Prometheus know before I leave".

"That won't be a problem" the President said after a quick nod from Commander Adama.

"Well in that case, there are a few things I should probably go over with you before we get to the press" Daniel said, lifting out the folder and trying to keep his voice level as he flipping it open. "We have been in contact overnight with representatives from the Governments involved in the Stargate program" Daniel started, glancing over the document to frame his thoughts and missing the significant looks between Colonel Tigh and Adama over his inadvertent revelation of Prometheus's subspace communications technology. "They send their greetings to the people of the Twelve Colonies and they are looking at preparing for shipments of humanitarian and medical supplies as soon as possible to the fleet, along with support personnel".

"And the bad news is?" Roslyn asked with a half smile, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Daniel put his own half smile on and decided not to try and sugar coat it.

"And the bad news is that resettlement of the fleets population on Earth is just not going to be a possibility".

Roslyn's smile turned somewhat forced, but Daniel had the impression she had expected that news. Adama's face didn't change in the slightest – he would hate to play poker against that man -, Tigh simply glowered at him and Baltar looked somewhat shocked, his eyes kept tracking towards the empty half of the room for some reason, as if he was looking at someone else…or was high on caffeine.

"So you're going to just pretend we don't exist, after doing your best to rile up the toasters" Tigh said in a voice edged with contempt. "Just shut that gateway down and pretend that -"

"Colonel" Adama said with a glance at him, a single word but with an edge that instantly shut the junior officer up.

"Uh no, that wasn't what we were planning to do" Daniel said in confusion, removing a half dozen pictures from his folder and passing them across to Baltar who was closest to his table.

"These pictures are of a planet we have designated P4X-231" the former SG1 member said, looking over the short listing of planetary information. "It is roughly three hundred light years distant from Earth, six and a half thousand from the inter-dimensional gateway".

The planet in question had been found by _Daedalus_ on her shakedown cruise under General William Ronson. The former master of the _Prometheus_ had been promoted to crew training at Area-51, but he had also insisted on test flying the prototype 304 as soon as its hyperdrive had been fitted. Ironically mirroring his first mission on the X303, _Daedalus's_ Asgard hyperdrive had started to show signs of instability not that far out from Earth. Dropping out of Hyperspace into a nearby star system, Hermiod had quickly found and fixed the fault, but Ronson had decided to run some sensor scans of the unmapped star system as a matter of course.

The sensor returns had almost required a recalibration of the sensor scales, the planets crust was laced with gigantic veins of Naquadah and Trinnium all over the place, in concentrations even the well traveled Hermiod had never seen before.

After returning to Earth and passing on the news, the IOA had been up in arms, demanding an immediate investigation. _Prometheus_ had been diverted to deliver a Stargate, 'borrowed' from a long abandoned Goa'uld outpost – minus its DHD – along with some heavy equipment, allowing several engineering SG teams to deploy from the SGC. Doctor Balinski had almost hyperventilated with excitement over the fact that he only had to lean down to find samples of Naquadah laced rocks, leaving Earth with something of a dilemma.

To get the resources out of the ground, refined and back to Earth would take thousands of workers, countless _thousands_ of tons of heavy equipment, years of infrastructure building…it would make the Atlantis project look like a field trip in comparison and with all the SGC cleared and trained mining personnel deployed to the underway mining operation on P3X-403, the conclusion was that the planet would, unfortunately, have to wait.

_Now of course the IOA like the politicians they were, were trying to kill two birds with one stone_ Daniel thought to himself, trying not to roll his eyes and diverting his attention back to the room.

He gestured at the pictures they were holding which were a mixture of orbital images from _Prometheus_, UAV overflights and SG teams. Misty mountain ranges at dawn contrasted with tropical beaches at noon and wide open planes at dusk.

"The planet itself" he continued, "is uninhabited and from the information we've compiled so far, maintains a relatively pleasant climate all year round. The interesting thing about this planet however" he stressed, making eye contact with Adama and Roslyn as the other two people at the table looked over the pictures, "is that it is _extremely_ rich in certain mineral deposits".

"So you want _us_ to do your work for you, is that it?" Baltar put in with a roll of his eyes. "Cheap labor for Earth?"

"No" Daniel said categorically with a shake of his head. "We want to build a partnership. This planet" he continued emphatically, "is full of resources Earth needs but can't get to easily. You on the other hand, can. You can mine and refine them, then _sell_ these resources to Earth - or any other Galactic power for that matter - use them for yourself, whatever. You wouldn't be relying on charity you'd have the basis for a real long term economy to rebuild".

Daniel fell silent and sat back in his chair as the quartet absorbed his offer, wondering which way they would jump.

**Battle Cruiser Prometheus.  
Alternate P4X-221 Star System.  
January 13, 2005.  
**

"…and so I'm suddenly realizing that to hold Apollos Viper in place as I push him back towards Galactica, I have to keep accelerating. But if I don't _decelerate_ I'm going to smash into the Galactica and probably kill us both. At the same time a new wave of raiders is screaming after us, Galactica is shutting its flight pods down to jump…and I realize I need to go to the head".

The assembled F-302 pilots of Prometheus's fighter wing, the SFW-01 'Snake skinners' chuckled as Starbuck continued weaving out her story. Mitchell, leaning against the wall at the back of the room silently congratulated himself on bringing her into the ready room while Sam had taken Billy off on a tour of the rest of the ship showing off the hyperdrive and medical bays.

First and foremost, Starbuck was a pilot and around pilots, she reverted to type, relaxing as she exchanged stories with them, soon they were chatting like they had all known each other for years.

Thirteen of the remaining F-302 airmen (and women) currently on _Prometheus_ were sitting around the room, spellbound as Starbuck spun out several of her war stories. Her most popular story so far, of how she had salvaged a Cylon raider from the surface of an inhospitable planet had gone on for quite some time, mostly because the pilots had questioned her continually all about the strange Cylon cyborg ship, whose 'brothers' the Snakes had shot down in rather large numbers yesterday.

"So what did you do?" 'Spartan', one of the 302 flight leaders asked from the back row after the laughter had died down.

"Well I didn't do anything in my flight suit" she replied with a smirk, generating even more laughter. "No, we crashed onto the flight pod, bouncing down along it. I was actually thinking we might go all the way along it and out the other side for a few seconds, but we spun off into the wall". She paused for dramatic effect as if letting them visualize the barely controlled crash landing. "_Then_ I got out and went to the head".

Over the laughter of the pilots at her punch line, Spartan glanced across at Mitchell. "Well it looks like you have some competition for the best rammer in the Galaxy, Shaft" he said with a grin on his face.

"Best rammer in the Galaxy" Starbuck asked with a smile, perching herself on the table that faced the pilots seats.

"Oh it's great" Spartan assured her. "This is happened a bit over a year ago. Anubis, big over the top cliché filled bad guy, was attacking Earth with a fleet of his Motherships and his brand spanking new flagship. Our first orders were 'go for the head', take out the flagship and targets of opportunity. But we got flashed new orders at the last second from command to go and protect SG1 down at the South Pole. Shaft here gave his team building speech, the whole 'lets prepare to give our friend a warm welcome' and-"

"You're plagiarizing HALO again" another officer pointed out.

"Bite me Mushroom" he shot back. "Anyway, we launched and were approaching the danger zone…"

**F-302 Interceptor 'Snake Prime'  
150 Kilometers South West McMurdo AFB.**  
**Antarctica, Earth.**  
**One Year Prior.  
**

Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell glanced over his weapons status screen as he went through his final checks, pausing only long enough bounce his interceptor at Mach 3 over an icy ridgeline, scaring the bejesus out of a family of polar bears who hadn't anticipated the dozen sonic booms that followed

"ETA is twenty out" Lieutenant Adam Banks, his backseater commented as they screamed across the most desolate continent on Earth. "Prometheus is pacing us ten seconds back".

The polar bears were _really_ in for a bad day he thought.  
God help the USAF when Greenpeace found out about this battle.

"Copy that" he said, letting his airspeed bleed back as they headed in. Glancing at his navigation screen which showed the GPS numbers from the orbital constellation clicking over much faster then he had ever seen in an F-15 or F-16, he switched over his weapons status screen to TACTICAL then reached up, pushing his oxygen mask to his face and activating his encrypted wing frequency radio.

"Remember no matter what, we're here to protect SG1 at _all costs_. Glancing at his tactical display, which was now painting the descending bandits of Gliders and Al'Kesh bombers entering the troposphere, he flicked the MASTER ARM switch to 'on' and firmly buckled his oxygen mask to his helmet.

"Target Al'Kesh first, Gliders second. Go low boys and Girls, Prometheus has our back"

Earths wing of F-302's - Prometheus's squadron of eight plus sixteen more based at Area-51 - bounced over the final ridgeline and into a wide valley. Ringed by mountains with a Scoutship hovering on a pillar of white light in the rough centre of it, it was a stunning piece of scenery that perfectly framed the distant silver orbs of Al'Kesh and the black dots of Death Gliders coming into view on the far side.

A number of calls of 'Fox two!' came through the squadron channel, announcing the launch of a salvo of space modified AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles, the warheads streaking out past the Cargo ship to slam into the leading Al'Kesh bombers. The Goa'uld ships who had expected to do little more then chew up a single unarmed Cargo ship were caught flat footed, missiles homing in on and tearing out their engines, sending the seventy meter long ships spinning into the pack ice. Hesitation wavered down the entire formation of Goa'uld ships as the two sides closed, the 302's pressing their attack with gusto and causing most of the Jaffa pilots to flinch, completely forgetting the cargo ship as they clawed for maneuvering room as the F-302's screamed through their formations, cannons blazing.

A few stragglers belatedly realized their mission objectives had not been met and swung back towards the Cargo ship, only to be blown out of the sky by stuttering fire from _Prometheus_'s point defense guns as she settled into position directly on top of the Cargo ship.

"Break left, two Gliders at three O'Clock" Reverend warned and Mitchell broke without thinking, trusting in his wingman. They were the last pair of F-302's in the formation; he had held back ready to give split second orders if needed in the initial charge, but now it was every wing pair for themselves as he pulled a hard 180 into the 6 o'clock of the two Gliders that were making a run on the rear of _Prometheus_. As his HUD's floating gunsight passed through the fighters, he triggered a short burst from his twin cannons, gutting the leader and blowing the folding wing off the trailer, sending it spinning towards the ground in a blur of motion.

Risking a split second glance at the tactical display he saw the charge of the F-302's had had its desired effect. The Al'Kesh were all down for the count and the wing pairs of 302's were expertly and methodically chewing the Gliders to pieces in close combat. While Death Gliders were faster and marginally more maneuverable in the vacuum of space, they were at a huge disadvantage deep inside an atmosphere against the F-302's, whose fly-by-wire computers worked control surfaces simultaneously with the inertial dampening system to great effect. Any attempt to disengage for space would put their backs to the Earth fighters (and be defying their God's orders) so the poorly trained but enthusiastic Jaffa pilots doggedly hung in the battle.

"New Contact, one bandit on the deck at nine and inbound" Banks warned as Mitchell skipped around the flaming debris of his first victims. Glancing to his left, he saw a new wave of Gliders heading straight for _Prometheus _and the Cargo ship, this wave led by either a very brave or very stupid Al'Kesh.

"Tally one" he confirmed, inverting and pulling into a fifteen G dive as he threaded through the Glider formation at sixty degrees down towards the Al'Kesh. Forcing the bomber onto his gunsight, he flicked a switch on his flight stick to uncage his Sidewinders, waiting just long enough to get the growling buzz of a good lock before thumbing his trigger twice. "Fox two, Fox Two".

The twin smoke trails leapt out from under his wings, crossing the distance in less then two seconds to shred the Al'Kesh's port and starboard engines. Without sublight drives and inside a Gravity Well, an Al'Kesh flew about as well as a brick and, unsurprisingly, fell from the sky as Sir Issac Newton reclaimed his hold on the alien ship.

"Splash one Al'Kesh" he announced over the wing channel, swerving to avoid a midair collision with a Death Glider as he angled up and away from Prometheus, whose point defense guns opened up on the still incoming Gliders, her shields aglow as they returned fire "Rev you still back there?'

"With you in a sec Boss" 'Reverend' came back. Mitchell started to level out –

And his 302 jolted.

"We've been hit" Banks snapped. "Left thruster is down".

Mitchell pulled up level with the horizon, then snapped into a split-S to reverse his course, glimpsing of a pair of shapes skidding into position behind him.

"Contact, two bandits on our Six" Banks added unnecessarily as his tactical display belatedly highlighted them, tracking them with the 302's rear looking IR and radar systems. Accelerating as he jinked, he fired a short burst that blasted a Glider off the tail of an F-302 as it crossed his path, using the explosion to try and snap away from his pursuit.

Nope, they weren't leaving him. He was starting to wonder if he should head towards Prometheus and see if they could shoot the Gliders off him, or just get out of the furball for maneuvering room, when Rev finally came back on comm.

"Blue leader, we've got your Six" he announced. A second later, the green icon of an F-302 fell into position behind the Gliders and two loud explosions later, he was clear.

"Nice shot Rev" he thanked the officer, before turning back into the Dogfight. The second wave had been beaten back but now a _third_ wave was heading in. With a pang, he saw that a half dozen F-302 transponders were no longer registering on a secondary screen in his cockpit, but shoved his concern for them aside. Plenty of time to morn for them latter.

"Follow me through" he said, pointing his nose at the thickest part of the dogfight. "Shoot anything that isn't ours".

"Two" Rev acknowledged as Mitchell pushed his throttle forward.

"We've lost the turbine" Banks said in a tone of disgust as he looked over his systems readouts. "Killing number one" he added as he kicked in the fire suppression system to shut down the fire.

"Copy" was all Mitchell had time to say as he dove into the maelstrom above Prometheus. Fighters passed left to right and right to left, diving and climbing all over the place as he screamed through firing burst after burst from his cannons, certain he had blasted one Glider out of the sky and nicked a few others, with Rev picking up a couple of his own as the quartet of Vulcan cannons spewed six thousand rounds per minute-

"BREAK LEFT" Mitchell shouted, slamming his own stick to the right as his threat board screeched a target lock warning–

- too late as the lead Glider in a new pair shooting down from Orbit into the dogfight opened fire, catching Reverends F-302 right on the solid rocket booster.

Anywhere else on an F-302s fuselage, a single staff bolt would have probably done little more then break off armor. In this case a catastrophic explosion blew the F-302 into a thousand pieces.

"Reverend!" Mitchell shouted as he saw the blip degrade, then vanish from his radar screen. With the two Gliders circling onto his own Six he couldn't risk turning around to see the explosion, but he hoped against hope that the cockpit module had ejected –

"He's gone" Banks said flatly, killing that hope. Snarling under his breath, he started to angle away from the main battle for maneuvering room when a familiar voice crackled over his headset.

"Heads up Blue Leader, this is Carter, we have another bandit incoming".

"I see it Major" he replied, pushing his anger away and operating purely on training, juking away from the Gliders chasing him towards yet _another_ pair of Al'Kesh making a run towards the Cargo ship.

_How many of these damn things did Anubis have_ he silently asked himself. His flagship was the only craft big enough to launch them but even a ship that big couldn't have THAT many more of the things to throw out could it?

He hopped not, or they were screwed.

Cutting into a steep curve past a pair of F-302's pursuing a half squadron of Gliders with cannons blazing, he bored in at the Al'Kesh from their side. It was the worst kind of missile engagement profile, but at the rate they were closing he didn't have time to try anything fancy.

"Fox two, Fox Two" he called pickling off his two last missiles at the lead Al'Kesh before jerking to the right as a pair of golden energy blasts zipped past his cockpit and blew chunks into the ice downrange, the Gliders behind reminding him of their presence.

The two missiles curved inwards towards the stern of the Al'Kesh then to his horror, he saw one of the missiles waver before breaking off to the left and chasing after a Glider that rapidly passed out of sight. The other missile ran straight and true, exploding next to the bomber, shorting out its shields and shredding its port engines. Yawing to lead the target slightly, he triggered his guns – which fired a grand total of a dozen shots before the magazines went dry –stitching a burst of fire into the stern.

Crippled, the Al'Kesh didn't even hesitate, pitching down right at the Scoutship as its intact sister ship accelerated above it, keeping between Prometheus and its crippled wingman.

"Prometheus" he shouted over his channel that linked him directly with the bridge, "take that-"

"We've got it Blue leader" Major Gant replied as the bow guns on the X303 started blazing. Too close for missiles, the heavy slugs pounded through the Al'kesh's light shielding, chewing deep into the hull and staggering it, but its pilot managed to keep his disintegrating ship in place as a shield between the cruiser and its wingman, which bore down on the Scoutship like a burning freight train towards a stalled car.

Everything started to move in slow motion for Cameron as his F-302 bore in. The lower Al'Kesh was inexorably heading towards the hovering Scoutship, pure inertia carrying it down as its sister ship above disintegrated under _Prometheus's_ fire, but it effectively blocked the fire Prometheus was trying to direct downward.

It would all be over in a few seconds…and it would all have been for nothing.

_Defend that scout ship at all costs_ Hammond had said as they dove into the engagement.

All costs indeed.

Throwing his stick to the left and slamming his throttle up into the Solid Booster overdent, his fighter accelerated towards the nose of the Al'Kesh, dipping just forward of the bomber as it and the Scoutship grew rapidly-

The leading edge of the Mitchell's port wing struck the Al'Kesh just to the right of its cockpit. Made of a Trinium-Titanium alloy designed to resist great stress at hypersonic speeds, it dug into the window there and killed the Jaffa pilot before he even realized he had been hit. The drag of the wing none the less pulled the F-302 somewhat around to the left, causing the starboard wing to catch right on the nose of the ship, followed by the main body of the F-302, armor and hull plating from both ships flying everywhere. For a full quarter of a second, the F-302 was effectively tethered at full thrust, its engines right at the bow directed perpendicular to its line of travel throwing out sufficient thrust to slam the nose of the Al'Kesh away from the Scoutship into a fatal spin –

Then the F-302's wings snapped off.

Still connected to the uncontrolled rocket booster, the body of the F-302 shot off under Prometheus in an uncontrolled and uncontrollable barrel roll towards the ground, the automatic ejection system failing as the computer sensors detected the fighter was both upside down and under safe ejection height. Mitchell had just enough time to swear feelingly before the out of control wreck crashed into the ice pack, the inertial dampeners failed and everything went black.

The ready room was quiet as Spartan finished off his tail.

"Wow" Starbuck said.

"And the moral of the story is?" Mitchell asked the room.

"Never shoot off your wad prematurely" the entire room instantly responded before cracking up with laughter and breaking the somber mood. Starbuck simply smiled and shook her head.

"We better move on" he told her. "Carter and Keikeya should be just about ready for lunch soon" he pointed out. "Much more time with _these_ jokers and we'll probably be at war".

**Cloud Nine****  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

"Doctor Jackson, are you going to let-"

"Madam President! What have you-"

"Has there been any news about-"

"Doctor Jackson, what is the news from-

"decided about the possibility of Earth-"

"the Cylons contacted regarding-"

"Do we have any timeframes until Earth-"

"how long until supplies from Earth will reach-"

A dozen separate reporters broke into shouting the second Laura Roslyn led Daniel Jackson to the front of the richly appointed room. Flashes from cameras again strobbed, but he was prepared for it this time and managed to simply smile as he walked out on stage, wishing he had brought a pair of prescription sunglasses. There was enough light in the dim room he could see quite a few of them looked out of breath, probably from having run halfway across cloud nine to the wrong airlock to meet them, then halfway back when they found out their mistake and that the President and Doctor Jackson were both already on board. Strangely the fact that they were out of breath didn't appear to slow down them shouting out questions in the slightest.

He decided there might be something to Billy Keikeya's theory of the press not being human after all.

Two podiums had been set up on the stage left and right of the centerline, Roslyn stopped at the right hand one and Daniel the left, placing a folder on his lectern. There was no microphone he could see, though the room was small enough that he couldn't really see the need for one. Designed to hold perhaps a hundred people, the room looked to be closer to a hundred and fifty, with the press taking up the front third and all manner of VIP's in the rear. Waves of nervous if expectant energy rolled off the crowd as Roslyn let the press shout their questions without answering them, fiddling with her own papers (he still couldn't get over their weird angling the corners of their paper) as she simply waited for silence to descend.

The press took the hint.

Eventually.

"Thank you" she started with a smile, speaking as much to the press as the tens of thousands of people listening (and a few lucky ones watching) her and Daniel. "I know we all have questions that people have wanted to ask for over a day now, but first I would like for both myself and Doctor Daniel Jackson, to read out some statements to bring everyone up to speed on the current status of our talks". She paused for a second to shuffle some completely superfluous papers before looking across at him. "Doctor Jackson?"

Every camera and face in the room swung towards him.

"Thank you Madam President" he started, surprised that his voice did not crack. "On behalf of the President of the United States, the International Oversight Advisory Committee and all the people of Earth, I would like to extend a greeting to all the people of the Twelve Colonies. I can only offer my deepest regrets that it has taken such a catastrophic event to bring us back together again". Daniel kept his voice slow and steady, feeling the eyes and ears of tens of thousands of people looking to him for good news.

"The President and I, along with military officers from the _Galactica_ and _Prometheus,_ have been in close talks for the last few days". No secret there. "We have discussed our history both ancient and recent" - Daniel could not help but smile at the pun - "and have found a great deal in common in our values, our culture and our understanding of the universe".

And Daniel was increasingly sure of exactly which group of 'holier then thou' Ascended energy beings were responsible for the stunning similarities between their cultures. _Non interference my ass_, he thought guessing THAT law didn't apply across universal boundaries.

Well, now for the kicker.

"We have offered, and the President has accepted on behalf of the Twelve Colonies an offer of resettlement on a planet roughly three hundred light years away from Earth". A rumble of noise passed through the room, but no-one spoke up. "Earth is committed to providing resources, supplies and infrastructure to help you resettle onto this planet which we have designated P4X-231…though I'm sure you'll want to call it something else once you get there" he said, to a polite round of laughter from his audience. "

"I know this fleet has seen a lot of bad times. I can hardly begin to understand the events you've all been through over the last year. The President, Commander Adama, Vice President Baltar, all of them have told me a great deal about recent events, but it's a poor substitute for having seen it. All I can say to every man, women and child in the fleet is this". Glancing across at Roslyn for a second, he turned back to the press. "You are _not_ alone anymore".

Polite applause from the VIP's and press was soon joined by the faint sound of cheering and clapping from outside the 'building'. Smiling slightly, Daniel guessed that the several thousand civilians on Cloud Nine were hanging around outside in the fake (but astonishing) 'outdoors' area.

"And now I think President Roslyn wishes to make a statement" he said after the applause died down.

"Thank you Doctor Jackson" she acknowledged, waiting until attention had somewhat shifted back to her before starting to speak.

"Look at her" Sarah Porter growled from her vantage point, a room situated at the rear of the main auditorium which the Quorum of Twelve had liberated one to watch the conference in seclusion. "All hail the conquering hero of prophecy".

Tom Zerak managed not to roll his eyes at Porter. Yesterday she had been beside herself over what Doctor Jackson had said about the God's, followed by dire warnings about the risks of assimilation by the people of Earth, then the loss of their culture and religion.

Now she was ranting over the fact that Roslyn was apparently giving her everything Porter had demanded.

Gemenese. He had long given up trying to make sense of them.

"Unless I am mistaken Sarah" he pointed out as Roslyn glowingly spoke about the future of humanity, "you backed the Presidents quest to Kobol a week or two ago without hesitation because you claimed she _was_ the religious leader destined to lead us to Earth".

"As did you" she snorted, turning slightly towards him.

"I never denied it" he said mildly. "But would you mind telling me why you are so annoyed? Is it just that you don't like Daniel? Or is it that Roslyn hasn't died yet like the Prophecy said she would?"

"Don't mock the God's Tom" she warned with a glare. "We have to look to the future of our people and the threat that these people from Earth pose".

And Tom realized she still hadn't moved beyond the meeting yesterday where she had tried to convince the President that they needed to spend far more time studying these Earth people before committing to anything, only to be ridiculed by Gaius Baltar.

Which was probably the reason she was pointedly ignoring him, come to that.

"We've been over this" Safiya Sanne, the delegate from Picon came to his rescue. "We are in no position to refuse their help, this entire fleets purpose has been a quest for Earth no? We cannot back out now. I was almost crushed by a crowd when I left for Cloud Nine by people wanting to know if a rumor about them soon getting off these ships was true. I frankly don't think they care about _where_ they go, so long as it has solid ground under their feet".

"I know" she grunted. "But I can't help but think we're on the edge of a dangerously fast series of changes".

_Conservatives _Zerak sighed to himself. _Change is their mortal enemy_. _More so then the Cylons themselves._

"We could argue that a matter this significant _requires_ extensive consultation and consideration by the Quorum" Porter hedged. "We can wait here until we can more carefully study the issues".

"Adama would never go for it" Zerak dismissed her idea with a shrug.

"And he'd be right" Gaius put in. "We can't afford to stay in this system until the Cylons come back and we can't stay in our Galaxy away from here, letting the Cylons grab this system and cut us off from Earth".

"And the rest of the civilians would probably riot" Sanne put in.

"So we don't do anything" Zerak concluded.

Silence greeted his decision.

"Perhaps you would like to explain?" Marshall Bagot asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It's quite simple. Roslyn has been doing all she can to take all the credit for this, to the point of greeting Doctor Jackson in front of the press herself this morning on Galactica without anyone else around. We play this up, reminding everyone that all of this is her plan. Then, when the people in the fleet start to realize a new planet isn't going to reset everything back to the way it was before the exodus and start to complain hard everything is, we'll be there to help point the fingers. She will start to stumble, eventually she'll trip-"

"And we'll be there to help her fall" Gaius Baltar smiled.

"Now if anyone has questions to ask-"

Unsurprisingly the entire press corps jumped to their feet shouting. Laura waved for a reduction in volume and pointed unsurprisingly to Playa Palacios, one of two 'real' reporters who had survived the Cylon holocaust and was always called on first for questions.

"Doctor Jackson. I was hoping you could tell us a little bit about Earth and other major powers in your Galaxy".

Daniel exhaled and nodded.

"Okay, Earth. Well Earth is the third planet in our solar system out of eight or nine planets, depending who you ask, there is a bit of an argument going on right now about that. It's the only inhabited planet, with a population of about six and a half billion people, spread over six or seven major continents and about two hundred countries. It's essential the focus point for humans in our Galaxy, though there are numerous planets throughout the Galaxy that contain human populations, generally quite primitive in terms of technology and very limited in size".

"So you don't have a single unified world Government?" Palacios asked quickly as Daniel finished, blocking her colleges from asking questions.

"Not as such, no" he admitted. "We have a world forum known as the United Nations, which serves as a means for nations to work together, help negotiate treaties and so on, in a way somewhat similar from what I understand to your own Quorum of Twelve and the articles of Colonization".

He got a mummer of surprise from his audience that he had clearly done his homework and tried not to smile.

"I, myself am from the United States of America" Daniel said, forcing himself to slow down as he saw the reporters furiously writing notes –though he was sure his answer was being recorded by dozens of microphones. "It is one of the world's major powers and initiated the Stargate program, Earths major venture into space. Recently most of the other major powers and many major regional powers on Earth have become involved in the Stargate program, mostly because of threats against Earth from hostile alien races, under the auspices of the International Oversight Advisory Committee".

His offhand comment about aliens had caused quite a stir he saw. He knew the Colonials had never run into any alien race – except the new generation of Cylons – so he was sure he had their undivided attention, letting them settle down as he took a drink from the glass of water sitting on his podium.

"Can you tell us a little about these alien races please?" Palacios pressed eagerly to a mummer of agreement from the rest of the reporters.

"You'll be getting a full briefing package within the next hour, complements of the Prometheus" Roslyn broke in with a slightly scolding sound in her voice. "Next question…D'Anna"

"Doctor Jackson" Biers smiled as she stood. "I would like to know where you stand on the question of protecting us from the Cylons?"

"Well I can't really say much about that as of yet, these considerations are still in the early stages, but I would have thought the Cylons made their position against us quite clear when we arrived".

"I'm sorry Doctor" she said in a sympathetic voice, "I'm afraid you've misunderstood me. This fleet has relatively limited defenses, if we settle down on a planet where we can't simply jump away; it will be much easier for the Cylons to wipe the last of us out. Will you be willing to station ships and troops to help us defend out planet? At least until our own technology advances towards your own and we can start building the new ships and weapons we need?"

"I would think that would be a matter for future negotiations" Roslyn answered for him quickly.

"Well given the clearly awesome superiority of your technology compared to that of the Cylons" she pointed out, wouldn't it make more sense to simply give us the weapons to go and retake what was ours in the first place?"

Daniel tried not to wince. He didn't want to publicly admit about just how limited Earths assets were to such a skittish public. Let alone the chance, however remote, of there being some Cylon spy in the audience which might cause the Cylons to bring in a fleet ten times as large as they had first seen to try and finish them off.

"Miss Biers" he replied calmly, "Earth has major commitments both in our Galaxy and beyond. A campaign against the Cylons would require diverting significant resources. I can understand your desire to return home, some day, but at this point in time I don't see how it's practical, especially as the Cylons have occupied those worlds in force, it would be a war of mutual annihilation to take them back".

"A few more of your ships and it _would_ be a war of annihilation" a voice offered from deeper in the dark room to a round of 'here here's.

"You're asking us to exterminate an entire race for you" Daniel pointed out, trying not to flair his nostrils at the almost giddy excitement the crowd was in over _that_ concept. The murmuring dropped a hush as his words washed over the crowd.

"Are you saying you think…there could be _peace_ between the Colonies and the Cylons?" Beirs asked carefully, feeling her way forward.

"Doctor Jackson has answered your question D'Anna" Roslyn said sharply. "Next question".

"No it's okay, I'll answer" Daniel broke in with a shake of his head. "Miss Biers, I can understand how such a concept would appear…completely impossible from where you sit now. But I can honestly tell you I've seen people fighting in a war to mutual annihilation step back from the brink before. Factions that have fought for centuries, humans and aliens both, ready to wipe the other from existence managing to sit down and talk".

"Well why don't you head back over to Galactica and talk to the Cylon they're holding? The one who shot Commander Adama, supposedly died but is actually sitting in their brig" Biers asked with an oh so innocent expression on her face. An excited babble of questions started to be thrown around, causing Roslyn to jump .

"Order! Can I get some quiet here…thank you" she said sternly, causing the excited babble of voices to reduce. Daniel couldn't help but narrow his eyes slightly at the news that a Cylon was being held on the Galactica and Roslyn hadn't muttered so much as a peep about it. And judging from the reaction of the VIP's behind the press, the fleet at large didn't know either.

If it was true.

"Regardless of if a Cylon is on board Galcatica or not" Daniel broke in as the volume reduced, "we are not going to abandon you to them. I would truly _hope _to find a way to get a true lasting peace, but I am here and Earth is here to ensue the Twelve Colonies can be and will be reborn".

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_**  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

"Attention on deck!"

Commander Adama walked into the pilots ready room hot on the heals of Apollos command, watching as packed room rapidly came to attention, what looked like a deck of cards suspiciously going flying towards the back of the r

oom, but the Commander decided to not make an issue of it..

"Kill the wireless" the elder Adama ordered Kat, who quickly obeyed and turned off the comm unit, which had been relaying the press conference from Cloud Nine. "Sit".

The pilots, marines and offers quickly moved back to their usual places as the younger Adama moved to front of the room to stand near the door, while the elder Adama mounted the podium and opened his papers, waiting for the noise to settle down.

"You've all no doubt been listening to the press conference and have heard the offer from Earth" the Commander started without preamble. "As you heard, the planet Doctor Jackson talked about is roughly three hundred light years away from Earth. What he didn't tell you is that it's roughly six thousand light years away from the inter-dimensional portal".

The assembled group didn't say anything, but their expressions shifted slightly as they took in the enormous distance that translated to. That was probably thousands of jumps, which could conceivably take the unhappy side of a year to make.

"Suffice to say, we're not going to be jumping there" Adama continued to the confusion of the pilots. "As you may or may not have heard, their ship, the Prometheus uses an FTL system quite different from our own capable of covering those distances in a matter of hours. They are planning to modify their drive system, somehow, to let them 'carry' a number of our ships with it as it travels too and from our ultimate destination."

Adama paused to let a quick murmur of conversation at that die down.

"Doctor Jackson has supplied preliminary estimates that it will probably take close to a week to make the necessary modifications to their ships drives, and the news that it will have to be done back on Earth, with the help of some experts apparently back there".

**Stargate Command ****Gateroom.  
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado  
Earth  
January 13, 2005  
**

"Wormhole established, receiving transmission".

"Put it up" Landry ordered Walter, who worked his console for a second before the LCD monitors on the ceiling switched from static and snow to the somewhat more pleasant visage of Elizabeth Weir.

"Doctor Weir" he greeted her with a smile.

"General" she smiled back with an incline of her head. "We have your technical expert ready to head over; I can tell you he wasn't very happy about being pulled away from his research on such short notice".

"Frankly Elizabeth, I don't really care if he's happy or not, he's got his orders…and I won't have to deal with him".

"Lucky Area-51" she said dryly, sitting back in her chair. "I've looked into the Atlantis mainframe searching for the subjects you asked for. If there is anything on these Lords of Kobol there, I haven't had any luck finding it as yet. Its possible its just buried so deep that I'll never turn anything up, but given the lack of even a single hit, I'm guessing there just isn't anything here for me to find".

"The odds were you wouldn't find anything" Landry shrugged. "All evidence Doctor Jackson found in that book of his suggests these order or grouping formed after the return from Atlantis. We still haven't even narrowed down which Ancients who returned from Pegasus they were either. One of the problems with people who live for countless thousands of years is that they tend to learn a great many skills. The list of suspects of 'who could build an inter-dimensional rift generator' starts to grow rather large when you look into it".

"We'll keep looking on this end" Weir assured him. "I don't know if we're going to be able to narrow it down much though".

"Well this might help you. I'm sending along the digital files of the book Doctor Jackson found over in the UK. Unfortunately the good Doctor hasn't had much time to look over it and as you've stolen just about everyone else with any skill at deciphering these Ancient puzzles-"

"Be nice" she admonished him with a mock scowl. "I do have a rather large city full of puzzles to cover. And as good as my people are, Doctor Jackson is still by far best go-to person on the Ancients".

"When he's here" Landry grunted sourly. A small trip by Prometheus to check out an Ancient space station had started off nice and simple. A pair of ZPM's, one of which had been installed in the _Daedalus _and one kept back on Earth, had been liberated which was a fantastic outcome.

But oh no. Colonel Mitchell was proving himself the true heir to the glory of SG1 by opening a Pandora's Box that would likely either kill them all, or, immeasurably strengthen them, with precious little wiggle room between the two extremes.

His flag had only rested in the office upstairs for a little over a month but already he was wondering how in the hell George Hammond had managed to last seven YEARS in this place.

He made a note to himself to email the retired officer and ask that question sometime later today.

"Well I'll look into everything you've sent me" Weir answered him as he mussed over recent events, bringing his attention back to the preset. This wasn't exactly a cheap phone call after all.

"I'd appreciate it" Landry nodded back. Weir then looked away as someone said something off-screen, then turned back to the camera mounted on her laptop.

"He's on his way" she said. Out of the corner of his eye, Landry saw a file transfer window pop open onto Walters console and a progress bar start to speed across. "As we're connected anyway" Weir continued, "I'm sending you our final request list for the equipment transfer. We're still well under budget, so I'm thinking of getting the Daedalus to bring back some heavy construction equipment to see what we can do to help the Athosians move out of huts before winter arrives".

Walter gave a quick nod to the General as the data burst checksum came up green, a second before with a ripple in the event horizon, the traveler arrived.

"We'll he's here. I'll get your requests up to the IOA and let you know when we'll have it ready. Landry out".

Not waiting for the video signal to cut, the General turned and strode down the steps of the control room. A heavily armed airman standing outside had already swipped his ID card through the Gateroom blast door lock, ensuring the General could walk right through to greet his guest.

"Hermiod, welcome back to Earth".

Having a limited number of facial features to work with, the Asgard species was generally unable to easily convey emotion through body language such as facial expressions, something which many humans found rather disconcerting. Humans, with very few exceptions, relied consciously or unconsciously on an understanding of body language to 'read' a person. The Asgard themselves conveyed subtleties of emotion through their spoken language which was filled with so many nuances of pitch, pacing and frequency that one could study it for a lifetime and barely scratch the surface of a real conversation.

Then on the other hand, there was Hermiod who for some reason, had never appeared to share any of the issues his kin had in expression emotion in human readable terms.

Right now, irritation was coming off him in waves as he strode down the metal ramp from Earths Stargate, which hissed then disconnected behind him.

"General Landry" he said in a steady monotone. "I must confess to a degree of irritation at being pulled away from my research on Atlantis at such short notice, both due to the disruption to my own research and my normal duties monitoring and adjusting the Asgard equipment on board Daedalus".

"Well I'm confident that Doctor Novak and Colonel Caldwell can manage just fine for at least a week or two without you" Landry tried to smooth the waters, ignoring the look the Asgard returned which clearly said _he_ shared no such confidence. "The orders didn't come from me, we called the high council to ask for some technical support, Supreme Commander Thor reassigned you on their orders".

"Indeed" the Asgard all but sighed, as if being a genius living in the land of the barely Stargate capable barbarians wasn't enough of a burden to carry around already.

Landry pitied Thor the next time Hermiod caught up with him. He couldn't help but wonder if the Agsards apparent exile to the Pegasus Galaxy, the furthest location in known space away from the Asgards home Galaxy of Ida, was because he ticked his own kind off as much as he apparently ticked everyone else off.

Jack O'Neill he knew, was convinced someone had split bleach into his cloning tank.

"I understand from Colonel Carters preliminary report that you are looking to modify the Asgard hyperdrive on board the Prometheus?" Hermiod continued, clearly having made his point and wanting to get down to business..

"Something along those lines yes" Landry nodded. "Area-51 has the specifics of her request and the Prometheus should be back sometime tomorrow".

"Very well" the Asgard stated. "I should get started on simulations immediately.

Landry obliged him, turning back to the Sergeant behind him and nodding.

"Stand by…" the Sergeant said, his console phone cradled to his head as he leaned close enough to his microphone to be heard in the Gateroom. "We're having a bit of trouble getting a lock from Area-51, it won't be a second Sir…"

Landry swore he heard the Asgard mutter something unintelligible and started to turn to ask him what he had just said, when with a flash of light and humming sound, the Asgard vanished.

"Area-51 confirms transport" Walter supplied helpfully.

"Thank you Walter" the General called back without turning, still looking at the space the Asgard had occupied.

"Hate that guy" he muttered in a sotto voice.

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_**  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

"We'll be taking the fleet through the inter-dimensional Gateway" Adama continued his briefing, pleased that none of the pilots, not even the relative newcomers talked. "The Star system on the other side is more or less identical to this one, so we'll move the fleet into orbit the planet while we wait". Adama gestured to the navigation map being projected. Based on information from the Prometheus, a symbol for a space station – the gateway station – had been added to the system map opposite the star from the planet.

"We'll be sending in a recon team later today. Four Raptors and a marine detachment will land and meet up with a group of forward deployed personnel from Earth at the Stargate facility. Gunny, that's you and your team". The projection switched over to a photo of a Stargate, Gunny Mathias leaning forward with her men to have a closer look at the alien technology the elder Adama had been briefing them on over the last few minutes. It still sounded fantastic beyond belief…but that was about par for the course of the last week.

"Once we're secure, the fleet will move in and make a jump to planetary orbit. These Jaffa ships will only be able to stay another day according to Doctor Jackson, so we'll be on our own except for a small crew on this space station. Using the Stargate, we can expect to be able to recall them or the Prometheus in less then a day if it becomes absolutely necessary, but due to the risks and relative power of the warships in this universe, our first defense will be to jump away to a preset rally point we will work out with Earth. For this reason, there will _not_ be any non-essential trips to the surface of this planet" Adama said, dropping the bad news. A series of groans and sighs worked their way around the room, but quickly stopped after a look from Lee at the instigators shut them up.

"Earth will be shipping through a dozen medical personnel with a great many supplies, Cottle" he said, glancing at the gruff CMO of Galactica sitting in the front row, "get a list of where they are most needed and get it to me by the end of the shift". The Doctor nodded, looking rather happy at the idea of trained medical personnel coming to help him break up his 16 hour days.

"The fleet is currently sufficient for food and water supplies" Adama continued, so we're holding off those shipments until we arrive at P4X-231. After we're settled into orbit tomorrow, we'll be sending a recon team to our new home through the Stargate, to check out the planet and establish a forward operating base, Hadrian that's your teams". The ships Master at Arms nodded once, apparently unconcerned with using the alien technology.

"How many trips the Prometheus is going to take to transfer the fleet is not yet clear. On her first trip, she'll be loading as many Raptors and Vipers in her hangers as possible. They'll be deployed on arrival to provide a combat patrol during the operation; we'll ship enough equipment through the Stargate to get a rough field base set up on planet to refuel our birds at least once if you need it. Colonel Tigh will go with the first wave and ground a command raptor to take command until the operation is complete. Galactica will remain with the fleet until the last run. Questions?"

There was silence.

"Then make it happen" he said.

The lights quickly came back on and excepting the pilots, the personnel started to file out back to their departments for their own more specific briefings.

"Apollo" he called out over the bustle, stepping down towards the CAG. "Pendergast has offered to leave a flight of his fighters with us, under our command while _Prometheus_ heads back to Earth".

"On Galactica?" he asked in surprise.

"On Galactica" he confirmed. "After seeing what they did to the Cylons yesterday, I'm inclined to accept his offer. But I'd like to hear your thoughts".

"Well my first thoughts are 'Frak yes'" he smiled slightly, being careful to keep his voice low. "But they're not Colonial fighters. They'll probably need their own fuel, weapons, maintenance teams…"

"We can probably ship anything critical through the planets Stargate" he reminded his Son "if they suddenly have any problems the supplies they are going to bring with them don't have. And Doctor Jackson hinted that this was as much for their benefit as ours, I get the impression they want a closer look at our ships and are offering a closer look at theirs. Think Tyrol would be interested?"

The younger Adama just rolled his eyes. The Chief would probably give up a years worth of 'cleaning fluid' rations just for two minutes to poke around one of Earths fighter craft.

"Well it sounds workable, if everything goes smoothly we might even be able to start looking up some kind of joint patrols or training".

"Good" he said. "Keep your pilots informed and make sure they know to treat the Earth personnel with all due respect. For their time here, they'll follow our orders but not be strictly under our chain of command".

"Sounds wonderfully complex" his Son said with a thin smile.

"Not as much as you may think. Their mission orders will be to defend the fleet and follow all orders that don't conflict with their posted rules of engagement. Which basically means as long as we don't order them to shoot up civilians, they're happy to shoot up anything we point at".

"Sounds simple enough" Lee nodded. "We're going to have to go over and compare all our procedures, especially communications. It shouldn't be too much of a problem though. From what little I've seen about their fighters, we'll probably use them as a detached strike force away from the Vipers most of the time".

"Work on the answers" the Commander ordered. "I'd better go and break the news to Tyrol. You have some pilots to brief".

**Cylon Resurrection Ship.  
High Orbit, Kobol. ****  
****Cylon Victory + 203 days.  
**

The Cylon once known as Boomer shivered involuntarily as she watched the Hybrid babble away, the cyborgs eyes focused on nothing and everything as it talked. Of all the things about 'her' people, the Hybrid was one of the few things that still made her shiver slightly when she saw it. Of course it didn't help that the rest of the Cylons were divided between thinking it was simple feedback from the neural connection, a living mind inside the tissue of the Hybrids head driven completely insane from the day it was brought online, or the voice of God himself.

"I didn't think I would find you here" another, more rational voice broke in to her thoughts. With the precise clicking of high heals on a metal floor, the Six known as Caprica strode into the room deep inside the Base Ship officially designated as 'Primary node, Alpha Computer Interface'. As always, the first thing that came to her mind when watching another walking around the Base Ship was the shear impracticality of their clothes. Sure they looked fashionable, the various models of Cylons had been designed to rather high standards of human attractiveness after all, but her former life as a Raptor pilot was still far too ingrained for her to feel comfortable in 'civvies' on board a warship.

Still, she had abandoned her former pilot singlet tops for a white top and crème colored jacket, grey/blue jeans and a pair of white sneakers. According to Caprica, this was currently all the rage with the 'eights'. She couldn't help but smile wryly at that, at least being biologically identical to countless other people meant it wasn't hard to find clothes that fit.

However, she had noticed yesterday an increasing degree of acceptance by the Threes and Fives who had originally looked upon her as an apparently tainted Cylon. She wasn't sure yet if this new attitude was mostly because of her growing friendship with Caprica, or, because she was apparently starting to act more like the rest of her 'sisters', but she didn't really care and simply took the increased breathing room to reflect and think about the catastrophe that was her life.

Case in point, her only real friend who had just walked into the room.

"It's a useful place to think" Boomer replied to Caprica's comment. "Only the Leoben's ever come down here anyway".

"I've seen a couple of Three's down here before" Six replied with a slight shrug. "I'm not sure what they think the Hybrid is saying; sometimes getting a straight answer from _them_ is just as bad as trying to get an answer from a Hybrid".

"_I_ can't help but hear what she thinks about us loud and clear" Boomer shot back, then regretted it. Caprica didn't deserve that. "Sorry, just a little on edge".

"It's only to be expected" Six said, moving down to sit on the edge of the tank with her, placing her hand gently on Boomers, the constant stream of red characters that flowed up Boomer now started to play over Caprica as she settled next to the tank. "Galactica is only about twenty five light years away, it's understandable that your-"

Suddenly, the Hybrids hand shot out and came down on top of the two other Cylons hands, startling Boomer and Six with the activity from the normally docile Hybrid.

"Serpent dethroned seeking the path of righteousness is made desolate by the horrors of the Children of the six and seven, forced the children of God are into running from their true nature into the gates of Oblivion at the behest of the jackal's jester. End of Line".

"Is she talking to us?" Boomer asked in nervous surprise.

The Hybrid _was _looking right at them with a look of either manic fire or insanity in its eyes.

"I doubt it" Caprica said, though her voice sounded slightly shaken as she untangled their hands from the Hybrid, who quickly relaxed back into the milky water with only her head showing above the waterline.

"They're waiting for us, we should go".

Giving a final look at the Hybrid, Boomer stood and followed Six out the door and through the bowels of the ship. Even after only a bit over a day on board, she was starting to find her way around the Resurrection ship quite easily. It was almost uncanny in fact given how each dark passage lit with dozens of white glow panels was identical to the previous passage.

Or perhaps she was simply _remembering_. She was not entirely sure about that and tried not to think about it as she walked through the dark passages, ignoring the looks and whispers between other Cylons on the Resurrection ship as two of the Heroes of the Cylons made their way towards the outer hull.

"So we've been finally called in?"

"Yes" Six nodded. "I think they called us in as much because they don't have any idea what they are going to do, as much as they want to hear what we have to say".

"Well at least we're going to get a chance to say it without the Three's trying to use us for their own agenda".

Six could only grunt in agreement. She and Sharon had spent several hours on their trip from Caprica talking, leading them to the inevitable conclusion that Three saw them both as a danger of some kind. Putting them together had meant the truth about Gaius - the fact the man she could admit she loved - was alive, had come out quickly.

Working back from there, the conclusion became painfully obvious after a short time. Three had mentioned in passing that "they" had been planning to box Sharon if she didn't "improve", shortly before they had left New Caprica. Clearly she had desired a mental breakdown of some kind from the two of them and the question of why wasn't that hard to answer when they looked at what made them different from other Cylons.

They were heroes in a society of conformity, standouts in a civilization of duplicates. Partially because they had both had fallen in love with humans.

Her plan to discredit and probably box the both of them would have probably worked to.

Except for one variable the Three couldn't anticipate.

"You know it's all well and good to realize that you have influence to use and enemies who don't want you to use it" Baltar commented as they rounded a corner, with the phantom leaning unconcerned against the bulkhead wall, "but it's not going to help much unless you can find a way to turn the situation around".

"So what are we going to say?" Six responded to Sharon's question, ignoring the man who fell into step behind and between them. "I very much doubt they are thinking about attacking Galactica, not with these Earth ships there". A part of her mind wondered when the rest of her people had become 'them' but shrugged it off for now.

"Oh they're thinking about it" Baltar corrected from behind them. "Desperately thinking of ways to attack that doesn't end with fleets being vaporized, but failing. Not exactly the same thing though, is it?"

"No, first they'll try to get more information about Earth, then figure out a way over the long term to compromise their defenses and exterminate them" Boomer replied with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Despite the fact that they had nothing to do with us, with the Colonials using the Cylons as cannon fodder".

"Which may be an opportunity in of itself" Six pointed out with a thoughtful look on her face as they turned the final passage to the command centre, stepping along the relatively narrow passage. "Let's see where this goes".

The Six and the Eight entered the command centre. Positioned on the port side of the Resurrection ship deep in the hull, it looked all but identical to those on the Base ships in formation around them. A large dome of a room with a sunken central area in which the main console reposed was the clear focus of the room, with thin threads of artificial nerves running down into secondary consoles, the glistening of a secreted nerve induction fluid dripping slowly down the threads. Secondary consoles lined some of the walls under the pulsing red stripe present in most Cylon ships.

What drew the attention of Six however were the five other Cylons, one of each model, standing around the central console.

"Come" the Leoben model said as he saw them enter the room. "We were just discussing our…response to the events of the last few days".

"The Scenario is still viable" the Three declared, ignoring the final two Cylons as they walked into the command centre. "In fact we can turn this too our advantage with a little bit of work".

"Or watch as everything we've worked for comes crashing down" the Leoben retorted. "We need to back off and look at this problem carefully" he said, crossing his arms and looking back at Biers. "All indications are that the child is safe and that's all that matters."

"What good is the first child of the new generation being born if it's the first child of the last generation?" the Five retorted. "We all saw the firepower of this Earth ship. Do we want an Earth _fleet _coming back at us?"

"Every second we leave those humans together increases the danger that Adama and Roslyn will turn them against _us_" the Caval said, joining the conversation."

"Then what do you propose Cavil?" Three responded with the sarcastic smirk that was so much her trademark.

"We talk to them, the people from Earth" Sharon broke in, to the surprise of everyone in the room.

"Talk. To Humans…" Three replied with a look at Sharon that mixed pity with disgust. "Tell me, where would you like to start?"

"Well I'd think that 'Sorry' would be a good place" Sharon replied in a similar tone. "From where I sit, I'd rather not have a fleet of these Earth ships coming after us, _or_ banding with Galactica. The Colonials are not a threat to us; we can use this situation to stop our senseless pursuit. We can't risk killing Sharon and her child. The risk is too great."

"Senseless pursuit…" Three sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Tell me then…Boomer" she asked, the other Cylons exchanging glances at the use of her human cover name but holding their comments to themselves, "what would you have us do? Just walk away from the Galactica? Let them go with their new friends and rebuild? Wait as they pass down the story of their near extinction from generation to generation? Until a century from now, they come back to hunt us down to the last?"

"So your only solution is to hunt _them_ down first?" Sharon snapped back. "Ignoring the fact that that _isn't_ a possibility anymore thanks to this Earth ship, how does that make us any better then them? When you get down to it, _what_ are we as a race if we only define ourselves by how hard we try to wipe out the last remnants of humanity? What is _our _purpose then? What is _our culture_?"

The short lived silence in the room as the rest of the Cylons listened closely to the 'war hero' was interrupted by a Simon, ever logical as he carefully entered the conversation and tried to diffuse the glares shooting between the Eight and the Three.

"Regardless of what we eventually decide to do, the fact is that we are clearly lacking information. We can't make a decision until we look at all the variables that exist. Before we can do anything else, we _need_ to gather information".

"I can provide you with that" a new voice, one Sharon didn't recognize broke in suddenly, "but it would do you little good".

The two dozen Cylons in the room looked around in confusion and even a small amount of apprehension as they failed to locate the source of the noise.

"Who are you?" Six asked into the sudden silence. A high pitched hum sounded for a second, then with a waver of light, a figure materialized in front of the command console, several steps above the pit. It was a tall, well dressed man whose eyes flickered over the assembly staring at him with something like amusement. A pair of Centurions which had been standing guard stomped forward, their arms exchanging their manipulators for rapid fire cannons which they aimed unerringly at him from two sides as they took up a firing stance.

"Amusing toys" he commented in a deep and oddly distorted voice. He looked over the Cylons with some care before switching his gaze back to the human models, rubbing his goatee slightly as he did so. "I have to admit I find your newer appearance much more pleasing then these things".

"Who are you?" Six repeated, ignoring his smug look and trying to keep her temper under better control then Three next to her, who was simply glaring at the intruder and clearly ready to order the Centurions to open fire.

"I am the one with the technology you will need, if you are going to fight against the humans" he said, stepping forward and causing one of the Centurions in turn to step forward warningly…which he walked right through.

A surprised gasp was forced from several of the Cylons, but none moved backwards as the man moved to the end of the console and stopped, smiling slightly at their expressions.

"Why pray tell would a human come to us and offer to help us against his own?" Cavil asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ignoring your ridiculous assertion that humans all think the same and act the same" the man scoffed, ignoring the flash of anger on Cavil's face, "you are under the false impression that I am a human" he said…before his eyes flashed with a pulse of golden light. "And my name, is Ba'al".

This time the nearest Cylons _did _take a step back as the Centurions stood around uncertain, their programming not exactly covering this situation in any great depth.

"So you're not human" Three allowed, her smoldering anger almost magically replaced by a wary caution. "Why are you here?"

"To propose an alliance" Ba'al said, crossing his arms against his chest. "We each appear to have a common enemy. Your technology is primitive, which is something I can help with. You also lack information on just what you have gotten into and cannot escape from, which I can provide".

"In return for…?" Three asked with an open ended drawl. Ba'al smiled, thinly.

"You will be helping me to eliminate a problem. Afterwards, as you will shortly understand, we will have no need, nor any way to come into conflict."

"How can we trust you?" Simon asked bluntly. Ba'al simply grinned.

"You cannot. But if you wish to discuss this in more detail, I would suggest we meet on the planet."

"When?" Three asked.

"Soon" was his reply, before with a waver he vanished from the command centre.

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_**  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
Several hours later.  
**

"That's the last of them" Kelly said from his position in the LSO's command post, up in the starboard hanger. The object of his attention, the last F-302 fighter to land on Galactica had come to a perfect stop after flying a perfect approach. Unlike Vipers which generally bounced around a little as they fired thrusters fired to align themselves, these Earth ships had just flown an ultra precise glide slope, lightly touched the deck and rolled out without so much as a single 'hop', nor a millimeter of slide.

"CIC, LSO" he said into the phone he had been holding during the landing sequence. "We're all aboard, clear to retract the pods".

"Copy that" the distant voice of Tigh came back and with a jolt, the massive servomotors started to pull the huge bulk of the ships flight pods closer in towards the hull, finally sealing with a loud boom.

"Hard seal" a junior deckhand called out from one of the control consoles behind him, Kelly glanced at his own flight console to ensure that the bay was isolated from the hard vacuum outside, double checking the readings on the somewhat underused consoles in the Starboard hanger.

"Flood the bay" he ordered when he was satisfied the system was in order. The technician complied, flicking two switches and turning a key. With a loud hiss which slowly deepened into a roar, the life support systems in the hanger came online, pumping the enormous volume of air in that was needed to fill the hanger bay. It was time and resource consuming and for that reason rarely done, but as the F-302's were simply too big to fit down into the common maintenance bay underneath the deck, it was the only real solution for now.

It seamed to take hours, but was really only five minutes before the pressure finally reached nominal levels.

"Pressure is nominal, no sign of air loss, looks like the hull is still solid" the tech decided as he rechecked every one of his gauges, finding nothing negative.

Kelly nodded once, lifting the phone from his console and tying it into the hanger bay PA system.

"Pressure nominal, clear to pop hatches".

Almost at once, doors on the side of the hanger slide open and dozens of deckhands poured out towards the quartet of sleek black fighters and the bulky fleet shuttle parked further up that had been borrowed to deliver a dozen technical crew and some supplies from the Prometheus to Galactica. Under Tyrols directions, they quickly brought up short ladders against the Earth fighters to help the people inside down, while others who were probably supposed to be doing any number of other things on board Galactica stopped to point and examine the spacecraft or got in line to talk to the suddenly overwhelmed Earth personnel.

Further up the bay, the long cargo mover that had barely squeaked into Prometheus's hanger bay lowered its rear hatch, letting people in green and blue jumpsuits of some kind walk down the ramp with large duffle bags slung over their shoulders. He recognized Starbuck from the excited way she danced down the ramp to meet up with a couple of pilots and thought he saw that Keikeya kid mixed with a couple of Earth people as well, all of whom were quickly mobbed with handshakes, backslaps and even a few hugs taking place.

Small carts and powered haulers were now rolling from the side of the hanger bay from the direction of the bridge between the hanger pods up towards the transport to start unloading. Shaking his head slightly at the sluggish response of his deck crews who appeared much more interested in talking then working, he stabbed a second button under the phone and opened up a link to the CIC.

"Sir, LSO reports pods secure and unloading underway".

"Very well XO" Adama nodded to Tigh, putting down the high resolution picture of Earth and looking around the CIC.

Despite the news that they were _not_ going to Earth, there was an enthusiasm and excitement on his ship that he hadn't seen since before the Cylons had attacked the Colonies. Saul had already had to kick a few people in the rear end to keep them focused on their jobs, meaning _he _was just as unbearably happy as the crew, unfortunately.

"Get me the Prometheus, ship to ship" Adama ordered Dee, putting aside thoughts of his crew for now. They'd settle down soon enough, but he didn't have the heart to try and beat them up for having the first real hope in their lives since they had fled from the Cylons.

Only an hour ago, the fleet had jumped to within a few tens of kilometers from the interdimensional rift, ensuring in the event of an all out Cylon attack that they could quickly scoot through the door and (hopefully) shut it in the Cylons face. If everything went according to schedule, Prometheus would be heading for Earth in a few minutes, the Raptors would make a quick survey of their first destination on the other side to make sure it all was 'as advertised', then the fleet would pass through and jump to the planet.

Somehow though, he felt the fleets amazing run of luck over the last week was just about due for a crash and burn.

"Sir? I have Colonel Pendergast for you on an open channel" Dee spoke up as she tied in the transmission to the Commanders own phone. Adama stopped for a second to frame his thoughts before picking up the phone. They hadn't had anything like the time to work out a secure communications system between their two ships as of yet so everything was still being transmitted in the clear, albeit using very tightly focused transmissions. As such, he had been careful to not say anything that might excite the rather over stimulated civilians any more then they were, if they somehow managed to overhear.

"This is Galactica Actual. All fighters and personnel are on board".

"Copy that Commander" Pendergast replied instantly, clearly waiting for the signal on his bridge. We're ready to depart now. We've just received word that the SG teams have been deployed to P4X-221 and are expecting your people later today. All things being equal, we should be back within a week. Oh and I'm afraid the Jaffa ships are going to have to leave immediately to return to their patrol routes. We'll keep you updated on the situation via the Stargate. Call if you need us".

"Understood" Adama replied. "We'll take good care of your people and see you in a week".

"Roger that, out" Pendergast replied, cutting off the transmission. On the DRADIS display, the green icon for Prometheus flashed several times then with a beep, vanished from the display.

"The Prometheus has transitioned" Gaeta called unnecessarily as a surge of energy washed over his readouts from the Gateway, external cameras showing the ship at this distance as a tiny silver spec that suddenly illuminated brilliantly before vanishing.

"Let's get moving with our deployments" Adama said, speaking loud enough to be heard by the CIC staff and getting them quickly back on task. "Colonel, prepare to launch Raptor recon unit".

"Yes sir" Tigh nodded, picking up the microphone that linked directly into the ship wide PA system. A low tone echoed throughout the entire ship as he hit the transmitter. "This is the XO. Pass to word to recon team alpha to report for launch in ten minutes".

"Sir, the President and Doctor Jackson are inbound from Cloud Nine" Dualla spoke up as Tigh replaced the microphone in the cradle. "ETA is five minutes".

"You know he'll be asking about that Cylon we've got stashed in the brig" Tigh commented in a soft voice intended to reach his CO's ears only after ensuring no-one was in eavesdropping range. "What are we going to tell him?"

"The truth" Adama replied curtly.

"And if he wants to talk to her?" Tigh asked, clearly wondering about exactly what it would have to say about their actions over the last few months and how it had been treated.

"We'll let him, properly supervised" Bill replied, thinking back to when this copy of Sharon had held a gun to his head, then given it up to prove a point. He still didn't trust her any further then the length of her chains, but he had to admit she had done everything she could to prove herself no threat to them…and proved she was in love with one of his pilots, having apparently betrayed her own people for him.

"Make sure that we get a full recording of everything that happens when he goes to see her" he continued, glancing up at Tigh. "I'm interested to see what a Cylon thinks about Earth, and what they are going to do about it".

"Alright this is the way its going to work" Gunnery Sergeant Mathias declared in a voice that the God's themselves would have envied as she 'swaggered' down the line of Marines checking weapons near the quartet of Raptors sitting on the deck of the Port hanger.

"Dikto, Giggis you're in Raptor one. Nowart, Stewart you're in two. Henick you're with me in three. Make sure the survival gear and heavy weapons are split between each of the Raptors; if this thing goes bad I don't want it to turn into a frak-up like Kobol". The Marines nodded and switched placed to buddy up, swapping a couple of packages to ensure that if any one or even two of the troop Raptors went down, the others would still each have a surface to orbit beacon and ample supplies, unlike those poor bastards who had crash landed on the original home of the Gods and played hit and run with the toasters for over a week.

"Alright" she continued when everyone stopped moving. "Our Raptors follow the gunship in; we land if it looks friendly, we go say hi to the Marines from Earth who will be waiting. The call signs we've arranged through Prometheus have apparently been forwarded to them. Ours is Starship, theirs is Luna, don't ask me _why_, it just is" she said, stopping her pacing. "Of course if for some reason they haven't gotten this message for _Fraks_ sake don't engage unless you have no other choice, disengage and signal an abort, we'll pick up the pieces later. Questions?"

There were none, which was good because the likely questions they would have asked would have been ones she wouldn't have been able to answer.

"Then move out".

The half dozen marines glad in green camouflage overlayed with heavy black armor and combat helmets slung their equipment and hustled towards the four ships starting preflight checks. As Mathias followed Corporal Henick in, she saw the pilots finishing their own briefing from the CAG, Lee Adama who was also in a flight suit. He would escort them as far as the other side of the rift and hold there on patrol with Lieutenant Katraine until they were expected to return in two hours.

"Oh great we got the fraken Cylon lover" Henick muttered. Following his gaze, she saw Lieutenant Agathon breaking from the pack of pilots and jumping up on their Raptor, nodding once to them before ducking through the hatch.

Glancing around quickly, she grabbed a fist full of the webbing on Henick's vest and shoved him against the left tail of the Raptor as he came to surprised halt.

Mathias was deceptively strong for such a small figure and the surprised marines eyes went wide at the iron grip just under his throat.

"Corporal if you ever mouth off about an officer of the Colonial fleet being a 'Cylon Lover', specifically an officer who risked his ass two days ago to _save_ this fleet from the Cylons, blowing up a Base Ship in the process, I can guarantee the only time you will step foot on our new planet will be when they drag your aged corpse down from Galactica for burial. Am I making myself _perfectly _clear?"

"Crystal Mam" he replied, a nervous and somewhat fearful expression on his face showing he realized he had not just crossed the line but pissed on it in front of the ships second most senior Marine NonCom.

"Is there a problem Gunny?" Apollo asked, walking over.

"Just a little attitude adjustment Sir" she replied with a thin smile, releasing the Marine who ironically now found a very good reason to get inside Helo's Raptor and away from the Captain and the Sergeant.

Lee decided not to press the issue and simply nodded, turning and walking over towards his Viper. His fathers old Mark II in fact, his Mark VII was in the shop with a few others thanks to some minor damage from their tangle with the Cylons a couple of days ago.

"She's all ready Sir" Cally said as he climbed up the ladder and dropped into the seat. "Just watch the throttle when you push it to the maximum, it's been sticking a little bit".

"Noted" he replied, accepting his helmet from Cally and with long practiced ease, locked it onto his flight suits collar. He couldn't believe what Starbuck had told him a few minutes ago about the Earth pilots flying without vacuum rated flight suits, but in the crazy 'high tech – low tech' nature of their world apparently their suits were just too bulky to wear in the cockpit.

_Well _he thought, _maybe we can swap two dozen of them for two dozen of their enhanced nukes…_

On that happy thought, he locked the cockpit as his Viper was sealed in the tube.

"LSO reports the scout team is good to launch" Dee looked up from her console as the message came through.

"Execute" Adama said without hesitation.

Ten seconds later, the scattering of green icons on the DRADIS display was joined by the twin icons of CAG and GALACTICA-VIPER-7961, then a matter of seconds later by several GALACTICA-RAPTOR icons which formed up behind them.

"Signal Apollo to proceed to the mission start waypoint, have the-"

Adama was cut off as the loud screaming of a contact alarm cut through everything, followed a second later by the master DRADIS display zooming out and recalibrating its scale, to show a large red icon suddenly appearing on the edge of the screen.

"DRADIS contact!" Gaeta shouted as he worked his console. "Signal of Contact bearing…three four two carom zero one one, incoming capital size bogy, CBDR"

"Oh you have got to be fraking me" Tigh hissed as he picked up the ship wide PA, waiting for the order he knew was coming.

"Set condition one throughout the fleet" Adama said calmly, placing the folder he had been reading onto the plotting table, turning to face Dualla. "Signal the fleet to stand by for immediate transition through the gateway. Scrub the Raptors recon and have the CAG form up with the Cap" Adama ordered.

"Set condition one throughout the ship, this is not a drill" Tigh announced over the PA before stabbing the microphone back into the cradle, glaring at the large scarlet CAPITAL-UNKNOWN symbol slowly but inoperably driving towards the Colonial fleet.

"New Contacts, they're launching Raiders!" Gaeta called out as waves of red icons started to detach themselves from the large ship, before being grouped into UNKNOWN-SQUADRON tags as the tracks grew too numerous to remain in discrete units.

"Apollo Galactica, I'm outbound towards the incoming Base ship, Kat, Hot Dog and Dash with me, intercept in two minutes".

"Roger Apollo" Dualla replied, looking over the feed from Gaetas tactical displays.

"Frakers always know exactly when to hit us" Tigh muttered darkly, his thoughts clearly focused on the possibility of sleeper agents in the fleet. "It's _surely _a coincidence that Prometheus just left and is going to be out of contact for hours".

"It might well be" Adama replied with a slight shrug, "but right now it's not important. Signal Apollo to engage their lead element then pull back. Stand by to launch Vipers and get those F-302's ready. I want a little surprise ready for our friends".

"Yes Sir" Tigh said with a grim look, picking up the phone and starting to punch in the code for Kelly when Gaeta suddenly spoke up.

"Uh Sirs…I'm picking up Colonial transponders" Gaeta suddenly spoke up in his confusion as the DRADIS systems automatic interrogation signals came back with information for Colonial strike craft and automatically updated the displays.

"Ah hell, now they're using our own signals against us" Tigh growled. Trying to manage a battle where everything registered as friendly was going to be damn near impossible at best. He was frankly surprised they had taken this long to come up with the idea, the toasters had had plenty of time to go through the wrecks of the fleet back in the Colonies and after all.

He turned to suggest a forced re-designation of all ships not from Galactica as hostile…and saw his CO frowning at the display in thought.

"Maybe" Adama said as the screen showed the cloud of green icons closing on Galactica, Vipers starting to pour out of her tubes. "Weapons hold. Signal the fleet to hold position short of the gateway too" he put in.

"All ships Galactica, hold positions" Dualla said as the door to CIC opened admitting Doctor Daniel Jackson and President Laura Roslyn, who looked somewhat out of breath. Repeat, hold your positions".

"If you let me talk to the Gateway station I can call the SGC and get them to turn Prometheus around immediately if you need backup" Daniel offered to the surprise of Tigh as he walked up to the command console, who hadn't anticipated that the Earth ship could be reached at FTL velocities.

"Hold that thought" Adama replied, turning away from the DRADIS display to Dualla. "Ship to ship. Priority one Colonial channel. Send hostile challenge and ID, then push the reply up on the speakers".

Dualla worked her console, then hit the transmit key for her headset. "Attention unknown vessel. This is the Battlestar Galactica. Identify yourself or we will fire upon you" the non commissioned officer transmitted over the priority one channel, meaning it would get the instant attention of any Colonial CO.

"Range to leading contacts eighteen fifty" Gaeta sung out as the wall of 'friendly' icons continued to scream towards the fleet on a clear attack vector, far more raider blips present then Galactica had Vipers ready to defend, which was par for the course in just about every engagement unfortunately.

Static suddenly hissed over the CIC speakers, then a male voice broke though.

"This is the Battlestar Pegasus to the ship claiming to be the Galactica. Please respond".

"Pegasus…" Tigh scoffed into the dead silence that fell over the CIC. "How can _that_ be, the entire fleet was destroyed?"

"We've already had one chance meeting in deep space Colonel" Roslyn said in a tone of thought, inclining her head slightly towards the well dressed Earth representative next to her. Adama bit down on his lip for a second, his gaze not shifting from his communications officer as he pulled his phone.

"Give me direct contact" he ordered. Dualla pressed a button to transfer the channel from her station to his, then nodded.

"Pegasus, this is Galactica actual. Authenticate identity with recognition codes _immediately_".

Quickly, Dualla's board beeped with the report of an incoming secure transmission, which she quickly unpacked to find a long authentication string. Opening the fleet recognition file, she input the transmission and in a millisecond, a match for the _Mercury_ class Battlestar _Pegasus_ came back in the green.

"Sir…I've received Colonial recognition codes…they're authentic" she replied with hesitation laced through her voice, as if she couldn't believe it herself.

"I don't mean to sound negative…but couldn't those codes have been compromised by the Cylons since they overran the Colonies?" Daniel asked carefully.

"Easily" Tigh agreed. "Unless we can hear from someone we know, or Apollo can get a visual-"

"Galactica Actual, this is Pegasus actual" a new voice came over the speakers, a strident female voice that was speaking as if she was just as hesitant as them to believe what was going on. "Adama…is that you?"

"Admiral Cain" Galactica CO replied to the voice, one he recognized as the fastest rising officer in the Colonial fleet, exchanging a look with Tigh and Roslyn as he did so that said volumes. "What a pleasure to hear your voice".

**Battlestar **_**Pegasus**_**  
****633 Light years from Caprica. ****  
****Cylon Genocide + 203 days.  
**

Rear Admiral Helena Cain for the first time in over two hundred days found it difficult to maintain the icy professional demeanor that had been her mask for so long, as she started at one of the flat screens that ringed her command console. Taking a deep breath to calm down, she looked away from the forward DRADIS readout to her XO, Colonel Jack Fisk who was looking at his own display with more then a little shock on his face that he wasn't hiding.

Flipping the phone down away from her mouth, she nodded. "Disengage".

She was pleased to see her XO shake off his feelings and get back to work without question, glancing down for a split second to locate and press the button that would link his wireless headset directly into the fighter wings frequency.

"Red team disengage, red team, disengage" he ordered, watching the display to ensure his orders were carried out. Seconds later the Viper squadrons slowed, then reversed their course at a relatively sedate speed showed they had been listening in and knew Cylon raiders were not screaming towards them.

Cain returned her attention to the DRADIS display, vaguely noting that the officers and men around the room were stepping closer to the command console to take a peak at the sensor readouts, most of them wearing expressions of shock, hope or disbelief.

All three emotions were currently waging for supremacy inside the Admiral as the fighters on both sides turned around, except the nearest quartet from Galactica that were clearly coming in for a confirming look.

"Commander" she said, moving the phone back to her mouth which was slowly breaking into a rare smile to match those appearing on her crew. "I don't know what to say…this is a miracle".

"We've been lucky on miracles lately Admiral" Adama replied, turning to his own crew who now looking downright ready to start a party in the CIC instead of just hopeful as they had ten minutes ago.

"Step down to condition two throughout the fleet" he ordered, Dualla smiling as she moved to comply, the buzzing alert siren cutting off over the ship as the alert was canceled.

"Galactica, Apollo" the CAG said from many hundreds of kilometers away as he brought his flight into visual range, unable to wipe the grin off his face. "You are not going to _believe_ what I'm looking at out here" he said, laughing for the shear joy of it. "It's like a _dream_!"

Arcing past the patrol screen, Apollo, Kat, Hot Dog and Dash carefully dove through the cloud of fighters around the _Pegasus_, driving close past the huge Colonial warship still heading towards the fleet, her name written in twenty meter high letters along the flight pod, declaring to the universe that while the Colonial fleet had suffered a hell of a body blow, they weren't down for the count quite yet.


End file.
